Fell Wound
by Lirenel
Summary: A somewhat sequel to 'Faramir's story'. After the War, Faramir joins Aragorn and Eomer in orchunting but the small skirmish turns deadly for the Steward.
1. Important Author's Note

Fell Wound  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR, nor most of the characters in here. They belong to Tolkien. I am not going to disclaimer each chapter, I think this should be good enough.  
  
Summary: In October after the War of the Ring, King Aragorn is cleaning up Gondor, killing orcs and so on. Steward Faramir and King Éomer are joining him on an 'orc-hunting' trip. But what starts out as a small skirmish becomes a deadly struggle for Faramir.  
  
A/N: Hi everyone!  
  
Look! I finally am posting again! Please forgive for the long, long wait, I had decided to finish the story before posting anything to keep from the problem that is plaguing me with Prince Returns and such. So finally, I've finished the first (yes that means there are more) sequel to 'Faramir's story'.  
  
There are a few things you need to know. First of all if you scroll down you will find a summary of Faramir's story so you don't have to go back and reread it. But before you do that I need to say something ****IMPORTANT!!!****  
  
This is not technically a sequel. After I started writing 'Fell Wound' I realized that I wanted 'Faramir's story' to be a stand-alone story. So 'Fell Wound' and its sequels are really just fics with 'Faramir's story' as background. You can either take them as part of a story arc or take 'Faramir's story' by itself. It's up to you.  
  
Ok, here's the summary of 'Faramir's story'.  
  
Basically what you need to know is that when he was five, Faramir's mother died which was his father's breaking point. Faramir's father, Denethor, was the Steward of Gondor, holding the throne until the King came again. Denethor, though, was an evil pyromanical jerk who favored his son, Boromir, over Faramir. Unknown to Boromir, Denethor was emotionally and physically abusive to Faramir. When Faramir was eight, a healer, Iorwyn, figured it out and sent a letter to Denethor's brother-in-law, Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth. Imrahil arrived in Minas Tirith in time to save Faramir from a drunken Denethor who was trying to kill him. Imrahil took Faramir home with him, but Faramir withdrew from the world, neither talking nor smiling. A year later, because he was under duress to return Faramir to his father, Imrahil took Faramir to the elven city of Rivendell to be to foster son of Lord Elrond. Faramir also befriended two more elves, Lord Glorfindel and his wife Eluial. Elrond spent the next year trying to heal Faramir and finally succeeded. Faramir was ten when he started talking again and he looks to Elrond as his father, calling him 'Ada'. He was also given the elvish name, Tirpalandil, which is usually shortened to 'Tir'.  
When Faramir was 13 he met the Ranger Estel, who is really Aragorn who is the rightful king of Gondor. Though he knows Estel's identity, Faramir does not reveal it to anyone. After saving Estel from a raging river, the two become like brothers and they as well as Elladan and Elrohir became a tight-knit group. At 16, Faramir returned reluctantly to Gondor, despite protests by Elrond. Denethor welcomes him coldly, but Boromir is very happy to see his brother again. Boromir also had no clue what had happened in the past. When Faramir is 19, he and Boromir are attacked by orcs on a camping trip and Faramir is injured. He is treated by Iorwyn who had sent the letter to Prince Imrahil 11 years before.  
Most of the rest of the story is what happened in the books and movies. Boromir, when he goes to Rivendell for the council, found out from Lord Elrond about Faramir's past. This actually accentuated the Ring's hold on Boromir and contributed to his fall. Faramir meets Frodo and Sam and Sam gave him a letter from Boromir written before the Man's death. Faramir returned to Minas Tirith and faces his father who tells him, in front of Gandalf and Pippin, that he wished Faramir had died in Boromir's place. (Can you see why I don't like Denethor?) Faramir ended up injured in battle and Denethor thought he was going to die. This made him feel guilty, and because he had been driven mad by looking in the palantir, Denethor decided to kill both himself and Faramir by burning them on a pyre. Gandalf saved Faramir, but Denethor dies. Faramir was healed by Estel, now Aragorn, who didn't recognize his brother. While Aragorn and the others went on to the final battle, Faramir stayed at the Houses of Healing and meets Éowyn, the niece to the king of Rohan. Faramir fell in love with her, but she refused to return the sentiment because she believed that she loves Aragorn. Finally, Éowyn realizes that she loved Faramir, not Aragorn, and agrees to marry him. Then came more of my own stuff, starting with Aragorn's marriage to Arwen. Lord Elrond brought her to Minas Tirith and met up again with Faramir. Aragorn finally figured out that Faramir is his foster brother 'Tir'. Then Éowyn returned to Minas Tirith after a visit to Rohan. She and Faramir were walking through the city when they came across a blacksmith hitting his young son. It brought back memories for Faramir who nearly killed the blacksmith in a rage. After taking the boy to a safe place, Faramir disappeared and Éowyn, knowing something was wrong enlisted the help of Lord Elrond, who was still in the city, and Aragorn. They finally found him, and Éowyn helped Faramir come to terms with his past. The story ended with Faramir forgiving his father and facing the future.  
  
And now, 'Fell Wound'! 


	2. Ch 1 Dreaming

Chapter one  
  
Whoohoo! First chapter finally up. It is kinda short, but so was the first chapter of 'Faramir's story' and you see how that went. =D I'm going to upload the first two chapters today and we'll see how it goes from there.  
  
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It was night. Screams echoed through the shadow. The light of the stars was quenched as a dark wave of terror rose over the land. Pain blossomed in his side, unbearable agony. He couldn't breathe, why couldn't he breathe?  
  
Suddenly he was walking through the battlefield, the faces of the dead staring at him accusingly. All the dead were those he had killed himself, by his own hand or by his actions. Most of the bodies were orcs, but there were also Southrons, Easterlings. There were the men that died under his command, Rangers of Ithilien, soldiers of Osgiliath and Minas Tirith. His friend, Mablung, with an arrow in his throat lying next to a young soldier barely out of his teens. Several swan-knights of Dol Amroth lay dead from when they had tried to save him. Then came the bodies of his family. His mother, gone before her time. His brother who lay riddled with black orc arrows, dead because of *his* dream. His father who took his own life out of madness. He wanted to run away but his legs would not respond. They took him to the last body, a woman wearing white. Golden hair framed her pale face, her blue eyes staring unseeing at the sky. His heart plummeted. "No." He took her lifeless hand. "No!" Grief overwhelming, he let out heart wrenching cry, calling out the name of the dead woman. "ÉOWYN!"  
  
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Faramir, the Steward of Gondor and Prince of Ithilien, awoke with a start, his lungs gasping for breath. The same dream had plagued him ever since King Aragorn of Gondor had announced that he would be leading a small group of soldiers to rid his country of a particularly elusive and vicious band of orcs that had been raiding the western area of Anorien.  
  
The image of his fiancée's motionless body tormented his thoughts. Faramir knew that his dream was warning him. He knew that if Éowyn came with them on this hunt, he would lose the love of his life. Settling his head back down on the pillow, Faramir resolved to talk to Aragorn in the morning. At all costs, Éowyn must not be allowed to go.  
  
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Oh, and I forgot to mention at the top, there is very little action in this story, mostly angst. If you what action, then that will be in Fell Wound's sequel.  
  
Reviwer responses from 'Faramir's story':  
  
Lydia2= You asked and you receive! I will try to finish the Legolas story but right now these are my priorities.  
  
Anodien= You are a wonderful author, don't let anyone tell you otherwise. And, might I add, you need to update quickly!  
  
vicki= Denethor is very evil. I like calling him an evil pyromanical jerk.  
  
Orangeblossom Took1= Glad you liked 'Faramir's story'. Hope this lives up to your expectations.  
  
Thanks to everyone for all the reviews! They inspire me and help me become a better writer. Luv you guys! 


	3. Ch 2 Anger

Chapter 2 Anger  
  
A/N: when you see *^* it means that there is a scene change.  
  
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"Faramir! Are you ready to go orc-hunting?"  
  
Faramir smiled warmly at his soon to be brother-in-law, King Éomer of Rohan. Éomer had eagerly accepted King Aragorn's invitation to rid the countryside of orcs. It seemed to him a great way of getting to know his sister's betrothed better. Faramir and Éowyn had decided on a November wedding, leaving only a month before Éomer's little sister became the wife of the Prince of Ithilien. Said Prince shook his head at Éomer's eagerness to be off. "First I must talk to Éowyn, then I will meet up with you and Aragorn at the stables."  
  
As he made his way down to halls of the King's House, Faramir grimaced. This was most likely not to be a good encounter. Though puzzled, for Faramir had not given him an explanation, Aragorn had agreed to tell Éowyn that she would not be coming as she had planned, which would *not* put the shieldmaiden into a good mood.  
  
Faramir walked up behind Éowyn who was standing by the window in her room, frowning. Having lived with the elves of Rivendell for many years as a child, Faramir now had unusually quiet footsteps that people rarely heard before he was right next to them. //I don't think I will sneak up on her today. It would probably not be the wisest thing to do// "Éowyn?"  
  
The White Lady of Rohan whirled to face him. Her eyes flashed. "I talked to King Aragorn today and he told me that *you* asked that I not be allowed to ride with you! Why? What right have you to do that?"  
  
Faramir winced slightly at her tone. "It is too dangerous."  
  
"Too dangerous? I am still a shieldmaiden of Rohan, I can handle a sword."  
  
"I thought you said you no longer wished to fight in battle, that you only wished to heal the land."  
  
Éowyn frowned at her betrothed. Her voice grew louder with each argument until she was yelling at him. "Part of healing is fighting the disease. The orcs are a disease and I want to help wipe them out!"  
  
"No, it is too dangerous!" //Please Éowyn, I do not want you to die like in my vision. It would kill me!//  
  
Unaware of Faramir's thoughts, Éowyn boiled in anger and she lashed out at her fiancé. "Fine then! Go! Fight your dangerous orcs! I don't care! In fact, I don't care if you even come back!" Instantly, she saw that she had wounded him with her overly harsh words, but her fury and injured pride kept her from saying anything. Éowyn spun around, turning her back to the Prince of Ithilien. She half expected Faramir to wrap his arms around her and whisper an apology in her ear, but he didn't. When Éowyn turned again, he was gone, as if he had never been there.  
  
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Aragorn gently kissed his wife Arwen before he mounted his horse. ^Be safe, my love.^ she told him in her native Sindarin.  
  
He leaned over and smoothed her dark hair. ^We will be careful. Do not worry for me, love. I have Faramir and Éomer to protect me, as well as fifty good men.^  
  
^I know. I just worry when you go off to battle. It is a wife's right.^ They laughed as Aragorn relished just being near his beloved Arwen.  
  
Éomer rode over to them. "I do not mean to interrupt, but have either of you seen Faramir? He told me he would meet us here, but he is late."  
  
"I am not late." The Kings of Rohan and Gondor turned in their saddles to see Faramir walking towards them. "I believe the King said that we left at noontime. The sun is still an hour away from then. Besides, I asked a stable-boy to saddle Belgir for me." As if knowing he was being talked about, the chestnut horse whinnied and trotted up to his rider, dragging the poor stable-boy who held the reins. A gift from Faramir's foster father, Lord Elrond, Belgir had an exaggerated idea of his own importance, being an elven horse from a good bloodline. Faramir smiled as Belgir nudged his shoulder, impatient to be off. "Shall we go?" he asked as he mounted.  
  
Aragorn gave the order and the group trotted down the streets of Minas Tirith. The small party consisted of Aragorn and his twenty-five Gondorian calvary; Faramir plus ten members of his elite personal guard, the White Company; and Éomer with fifteen of his best Rohirrim. They did not expect to need any more than that, for although the band of orcs they hunted was fierce, it was small, reported to number only thirty. Neither the King of Gondor nor the King of Rohan thought they would be a problem once they were found.  
  
As they left the city's Gate, Aragorn turned to Faramir. "Éowyn did not come to see you off."  
  
Faramir did not look at his King. "We had an argument before I joined you. She was upset that I didn't want her to come."  
  
Aragorn frowned. "I should not have told her that it was you who decided that. Then she would only be angry at me."  
  
Faramir turned to him and spoke in Sindarin. ^It is not your fault, brother. She would have found out eventually and might have been even angrier at not being told. I have just been having a bad feeling about this hunt, and I do not want her in danger.^  
  
^Do you suggest we do not go?^  
  
Faramir shook his head. ^No. These orcs must be stopped or more shall perish than will die in the coming days.^  
  
Aragorn would have spoken more, but one of his men asked to speak with him and he had to leave Faramir. Éomer, having listened to the first part of the conversation that had been in the Common Speech, brought his horse, Firefoot, alongside Belgir. "My sister often speaks in anger before she thinks. Do not take her words to heart, Faramir."  
  
"I know, Éomer. I will try." 


	4. Ch 3 Heartache

Sorry about the wait. Here's another chapter for you all. I hope you like it. And if anyone can tell me how to italicize words so that they show up on ff.net I would really, really appreciate it. And spacing without the little marks in between sections. Thanks!  
  
Thanks to Leah, scm0516, Faramir-phile (love the name =D ), Susan, Orangeblossom Took, and Iavala for reviewing! You guys are the greatest!  
  
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Éowyn stood on the balcony, gazing out over Minas Tirith. It had been on that same balcony that Éowyn had first learned Faramir's father, Denethor, had verbally and physically abused him as a child. The wounds on his heart had never truly healed, even though he had finally forgiven his father. //And now I have hurt him with *my* words. I am as bad as Denethor! Why did I say that to him?//  
  
"My lady, a messenger from the King has arrived and the Queen requests your presence." Éowyn nodded at the servant and turned back for one last look at the city. //When Faramir returns, the first thing I will do is apologize. Well, first I'll kiss him, *then* I'll apologize.// The White Lady of Rohan left for the audience chamber to see what the messenger had to say.  
  
Queen Arwen was already there, but the messenger wasn't. The elf- queen looked almost agitated, which was unusual. "Arwen, are you alright?"  
  
"I am fine, Éowyn. But I am wondering why Estel would send one of your brother's Rohirrim with his message."  
  
That surprised Éowyn. "He sent a Rohirrim? Why didn't he send one of his own men?"  
  
"There may be two reasons, neither one to my liking."  
  
Éowyn sighed. "You are as bad as Faramir at not speaking plainly. What are the reasons?"  
  
"Either all the Men of Gondor are dead, or something bad happened and Estel needed to send the fastest rider he had."  
  
"I fear, My Lady, that it is the latter that is true." Arwen and Éowyn turned to face the newcomer who was staggering through the door. The messenger seemed exhausted; his clothes wrinkled and dirty from the ride to Minas Tirith.  
  
"What do you mean? What has happened?" Arwen's worry could be heard in her voice.  
  
"Two nights ago we reached the village of Tumbar which was being raided by a small group of orcs. King Aragorn ordered an attack, and we quickly killed the raiders. Unfortunately, it was a trap. Another, larger, group of orcs had been waiting on the outskirts of the village, waiting for us. In the ensuing battle, many were wounded or killed, soldiers and villagers alike. We finally won, but we found to our horror that the village's medical supplies had been destroyed and our few medicines and bandages would not be enough. The badly wounded were treated first, then anyone else we could help."  
  
"Is that why Estel. . . King Elessar. . . sent you? To gather medical supplies?"  
  
"Only partially. True, the supplies are needed, but most of the remaining injured can wait. No, my main mission is to escort the Lady Éowyn to Tumbar as quickly as possible."  
  
Éowyn felt her stomach clench tightly and her face paled. "Why?"  
  
"Soon after the medical supplies ran out, Prince Faramir was brought to the makeshift Healing Houses." Éowyn let out at strangled gasp. "He had been lost in the fighting and had not been seen since the battle. His wounds were severe and King Elessar did not know how long he had to live. He sent me to ride as fast as possible to bring you back before. . . " The messenger didn't continue, but his meaning was clear.  
  
Éowyn's head spun and her legs could no longer hold her up. Arwen grabbed her arm and led her to a chair. Turning to the messenger, the Queen of Gondor took charge. "Thank you for informing us. Please, send a servant to have my and Lady Éowyn's horses saddled." The messenger left and Arwen knelt beside her friend. "Éowyn, we must go. If we hurry, perhaps there will be enough time to save him." Éowyn nodded and numbly followed the Queen to the stables. Along with an honor guard of the fastest riders, the two ladies quickly mounted their horses and sped out of Minas Tirith. They did not talk, for they rode too fast, but in Éowyn's mind her own voice spoke echoing her parting words to her beloved. //I don't care if you even come back. I don't care if you even come back.//  
  
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Aragorn carefully wiped the sweat from Faramir's brow with a wet cloth. The Prince's fever had gone up and Aragorn was powerless to help his brother. As the sons of the same foster father, Lord Elrond of Rivendell, Aragorn and Faramir considered themselves brothers in all ways but by blood. Aragorn grimaced when he thought of how Elrond would react to hearing about Faramir. //How will I be able to face him?//  
  
"How is he?"  
  
The King of Gondor looked up as Éomer walked into the small tent. "Worse."  
  
"The messenger will have reached Minas Tirith by now, if not sooner for he is my fastest rider. Éowyn will be here soon." When Aragorn didn't say anything, the King of Rohan continued. "How long do you think it will take the other messenger to reach the elves?"  
  
"Too long. Lothlorien is over a week away and it would be two weeks before any help could arrive."  
  
"He will not last two weeks?"  
  
"Éomer, he may not last two *days*! That was why I sent the messenger to Minas Tirith, I want to at least give Éowyn the chance to say good-bye!"  
  
"But if they bring medical supplies, won't that help? Can't you heal him?"  
  
Aragorn angrily grabbed Éomer and pulled off Faramir's bandage. "Look at this. Do you see this wound?" Éomer winced at the deep gash in Faramir's side. Drops of blood oozed slowly out of the wound, which was tinged a sickly green. "*This* is what a poisoned wound looks like. Not only is it poisoned, but the poison is made from a mixture of orc blood and the blood from a Winged Beast of the Nazgul. It is a rare morgul poison contrived by Sauron himself that those orcs somehow got a hold of. Only the Bearers of the Three Elven Rings have the power to heal this."  
  
"I thought the Elf Rings were lost."  
  
"Not lost, hidden. I know of only two Bearers, Galadriel and Elrond, and it is to them that I sent the message. But even they cannot arrive in time."  
  
"Is there no hope at all?" Éomer cried. Aragorn ached to tell his friend that there was hope, that there was always hope, yet he could not see any himself.  
  
Soon the King of Rohan left, leaving Aragorn alone with Faramir. ^My brother, please come back to us! Fight this darkness, do not let it overcome you!^ The King lowered his head in despair, his hands clutching Faramir's limp one as if trying to anchor him to life. //Elbereth, please don't take him. Don't take my brother away!//  
  
"E. . . Estel?" The hoarse whisper startled Aragorn. He glanced at his brother who was staring at him with fever-glazed eyes.  
  
"Faramir!" Unlooked-for hope tantalized Aragorn. But his hope proved in vain as he watched Faramir struggle to stay conscious.  
  
"Estel, please. . . " He halted as agony from his wound stopped his breath for a moment. "Estel, please, promise me something."  
  
"Anything."  
  
Faramir struggled to raise his head and look Aragorn in the eyes. "Take. . . take care of Éowyn. Promise me you will take care of her."  
  
Aragorn's eyes stung from holding back tears. "You don't need me to take care of her, you will get better and do it yourself."  
  
"Please, Estel. Please."  
  
Faramir's grief-filled eyes tore at Aragorn's heart. "I will take care of her."  
  
"Promise."  
  
"I promise." Faramir sighed and rested his head back on the pillow. His eyes fluttered shut and his breathing and heartbeat slowed. Aragorn gripped his hand fearfully. "Faramir, don't go! Not yet, Éowyn is coming! She is coming, Tir!" In desperation the King called him by his elvish nickname. Aragorn breathed a small sigh of relief when Faramir's heart began beating steadily again. //Hurry Éowyn. There is not much time.//  
  
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How Faramir was injured is in future chapters. Remember, if you review with any questions I'll answer them.  
  
Next chapter: Struggle 


	5. Ch 4 Struggle

Hi guys! Finally decided to update. Since I feel like writing I think I'll respond to viewers.

Susan: Patience is a virtue. Or something like that. Don't worry I'm about as patient as Pippin waiting for dinner.

the evil witch queen: If you think poor Faramir now, just wait until the last story of this series. *tries to whistle innocently. Gives up cuz can't whistle.* And you'll see about Éowyn.

Yaya: Ack, Arwen! Sorry, I like her better when I write her, but not that much. 

Pernauriel: thank you!

Iavala: Like I said, you'll see!

Dark Aura016: Bwaahhaaahhaa! (sorry, couldn't resist.)

Kathryn Angelle: Uh-oh, better get this up fast! Hey can I join the Faramir-is-Swoon-Worthy club too?

char: says who? =D

LeeAn: Posting. . . now!

Reba: Yes Evil Skittle is very annoying. She keeps making me drink Mountain Dew and other hyper-inducing sugar-filled things that make me want to leave cliffies. And to placate your worries, know that there are at least two more stories planned after this. Though that doesn't mean he is alive through all of them. (hehe)

Ok, that's done. A special thanks to my Uncle Steve and than Kathryn Angelle, both of who suggested how to get italics. Thank you thank you thank you!!!!!!

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**Struggle**

            The company from Minas Tirith had to stop for the night, for the hard pace had exhausted the horses. Éowyn could not sleep, not when Faramir was injured, dying. Always her heart screamed at her for her harsh words to him. ** I don't care if you even come back. I don't care if you even come back. I don't care if you even come back.** //NO! I _do_ care, I want him back, I WANT HIM BACK! Why did I say that to him? What if he believed it, what if he dies believing I don't love him?// 

            Éowyn let out a soft sob, barely audible to human ears. But Arwen heard, and she walked over to where the woman sat with her knees curled to her chest. "Éowyn." The elf wanted to say more, but did not know how to comfort one whose beloved faced death. 

            "Arwen, I can't lose him, I can't! I haven't said good-bye, I haven't told him that I love him." Tears clouded Éowyn's ice blue eyes. "Valar, the last words I spoke to him were in anger. I was upset that he wouldn't let me fight with them and I told him. . . I told him that I didn't care if he returned or not! Arwen, I practically told him that I wished he died! I did not mean it, I regretted it the moment the words left my mouth, but because of my foolish pride I did not apologize. And now he is dying and he thinks I hate him!"

            The Queen of Gondor hugged her friend as Éowyn continued to cry. "Faramir knows you love him, Éowyn."

            "But. . . "

            Arwen held up her hand to silence the White Lady of Rohan. "Please, Éowyn. Yes, he was most likely hurt by your words, I will not say he wasn't. But do not dishonor him by saying that he hates you for rash words. Arguments will arise, feelings may be hurt, but that does not change the fact that you will always, _always_ love each other."

            "But he is still dying." 

            "Look at me." Éowyn looked into Arwen's piercing eyes. "There is always hope."

            Arwen watched as Éowyn fell asleep, wearied from her tears. The Queen of Gondor looked up at the stars sparkling against the night sky. //Please Valar, let there be hope.//

~*~

            "Your Highness, look." Aragorn glanced over to where one of his soldiers was pointing. A cloud of dust signaled the arrival of horses. Looking closely, Aragorn recognized the banner as that of the Queen of Gondor. He breathed a sigh of relief, glad that Arwen was accompanying Éowyn. //She will need her friend.//

            Éowyn and Arwen rode up to where Aragorn stood outside a tent, a black one usually used to hold bodies, but now used to keep passer-bys from seeing in. The King of Gondor looked horrible, as if he hadn't slept since leaving Minas Tirith. Beside him stood two Gondorian soldiers as well as Éomer. The King of Rohan helped his sister dismount her horse while Aragorn helped Arwen. Éowyn wasted no time with greetings. "Where is he? Where's Faramir?" Aragorn motioned to the dark tent and Éowyn ran towards it. Éomer went after her and grabbed her by the arm. She struggled to escape his hold, to get to Faramir. "Let go of me, Éomer."

            "Éowyn, listen to me. Listen to me!" Surprise by the grave tone of her brother's voice, Éowyn stopped fighting and looked at him. "Éowyn, it's bad. It is really bad. I do not want you going in there without knowing how serious it is. His wound is poisoned, and from what Aragorn has told me and from what I have seen, it is a terrible poison." Éowyn again tried to get away, not wanting to hear what Éomer had to say, but her brother held her firm. "His fever is high, but he shivers as if chilled. He is having trouble breathing, Aragorn says it is because the poison is slowly paralyzing his lungs." Éowyn felt tears falling again and Éomer's heart broke seeing how his words hurt his sister. 

"Let me go, Éomer." The White Lady of Rohan turned from her brother and he released her, watching as she walked into the small tent.  

            Éowyn quietly entered the tent and approached the makeshift bed on which Faramir slept. But it was obvious that his sleep was not peaceful, for fever-dreams held him in their grasp as he struggled and fought for each breath he took. Sweat poured down his face, yet still Faramir shivered beneath the warm blankets. Despair overtook Éowyn and she collapsed to her knees at his side. "Faramir," she whispered. "Faramir, it is me. I'm here, love. Please, come back to me, Faramir." Her throat tightened so that she could not speak anymore. Clutching Faramir's clammy hand, Éowyn wept, struggling to maintain hope. //Aragorn will save him. He has to.//

~*~

Faramir struggled against the strange force that tried to pull him under the icy waves. His whole body trembled from the cold as he desperately stroved to stay afloat in the dark sea. The frigid water continually covered him, he couldn't breathe! The pain in his side hindered his ability to stay afloat. //Someone, anyone, help me!//

Faramir.

The Steward saw a soft light in the distance, amongst the stormy clouds. //What?//

Faramir, it is me. 

The voice sounded familiar. It was warm, comforting, yet sad. But Faramir's fatigue confused his mind, and he couldn't place the lovely voice to a person.

I'm here, love. 

In a flash of comprehension, Faramir recognized the voice. //Éowyn!// The name of his beloved gave him new strength. //Éowyn, Éowyn, Éowyn!// Frantically, Faramir fought against the dark waters, fighting to reach her.

Please come back to me, Faramir.

But try as he might, he couldn't reach her. Hopelessness overcame him and he stopped struggling against the water. //I can't. I can't come back. I'm sorry.// And he fell back into the dark hold of his nightmare, the waves crashing about him as he floated in the murky sea.  

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Alright, I know I'm evil (well, Evil Skittle is). So I decided to post another chapter today.


	6. Ch 5 Regret

I think the italics worked. I'll need to check, but I think it did! 

Here's the next chapter. See? I'm not that evil. This does include some flashbacks so you can see what happened to Faramir. Hope you like it!

  
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**Regret**

Aragorn did not want to go into the tent. He did not want to see Éowyn, always so proud, with her shoulders slumped and her eyes dimmed. The King of Gondor shook his head in frustration. //This is all my fault! I should have sensed the ambush, should have kept an eye on Faramir, should have, should have. . .// His mind continued to berate him on his failings and he thought about the night of the attack and ambush, the night his brother was mortally wounded.

*^*flashback*^*

"Your Highnesses, the orcs raiding Tumbar number only twenty. The villagers are holding them off, but even so they are being beaten badly for they do not have many weapons."

King Aragorn nodded his thanks at his scout and turned to Éomer and Faramir. "Shall we show these orcs how the warriors of Rohan and Gondor fight?"

Éomer grinned. "It would be my honor to personally show those demons the edge of my sword." 

"Faramir?"

The Steward of Gondor's face stayed passive. "I am ready at your command, my king."

Aragorn held back a frown. He knew Faramir hated fighting, hated violence of any kind though he was the greatest swordsman in Gondor besides himself. But even though they had not fought in many battles together, Aragorn knew that Faramir was acting strangely. He had barely spoken the entire ride to Tumbar and Aragorn didn't know if it was because of the fight with Éowyn or some premonition of things to come. But the King of Gondor had no time to find out the reason. He had to protect his people. Drawing his sword Aragorn spared the time for one last glance at his brother before ordering the charge.

The twenty orcs were quickly taken care of. Aragorn let out a breath of relief that the battle was over so quickly. He turned to Faramir beside him and frowned. The Steward stared into the darkness, at the hills around the village. "What is it Faramir?"

"I do not know, I just feel. . . " Faramir frowned. He _knew something was wrong, something about those hills, but what was it? Sudden realization struck him as he saw a dark shape on the hill. In an instant Faramir saw the shape raise something, a bow, arrow pointing straight at the King of Gondor. "Estel!" With a burst of strength, Faramir knocked Aragorn off his horse, the arrow missing the King by inches. Faramir dismounted Belgir as more arrows filled the sky. "Ambush!" he cried as the screeches of orcs sounded from the hills. _

The surprised army was barely able to hold their ground at the first assault. Aragorn had quickly regained his feet after the fall. //Why didn't I see this coming?// Frustrated by his lack of foresight, the King took out his rage on the orcs. He was so distracted by his anger that he didn't see the orc that snuck up behind him. A shrill scream sounded close behind Aragorn, and he turned in time to see the orc fall headless to the ground, Faramir standing above it. Aragorn couldn't look long, as another orc attacked, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Faramir bent over clutching his side. Dispatching the orc, Aragorn turned again but Faramir was standing straight, fighting as if nothing had happened. Shrugging mentally, Aragorn returned to the battle.

*^*end flashback*^*

Aragorn blinked back tears. //I should have known better. I should have see that he was injured, should have looked for him before anything else. I should have calmed myself enough to know that he was missing.//

*^*flashback*^*

The moans of the injured permeated the tents. The sun was reaching its peak, but it did nothing to warm the wounded in the cold winds of October. Villagers and soldiers alike laid in makeshift cots, some in tents, some in the remaining houses of Tumbar. The battle was over, the orcs were destroyed, but still Aragorn could find no rest.

"Eregdir, hold this man down." The soldier dutifully obeyed his king, holding a fellow warrior so that Aragorn could dress the painful leg wound. With the army healers overtaxed with the wounded, every able-bodied soldier was recruited to help. 

Aragorn went from patient to patient, trying desperately to help those he could. He stopped at an old woman, her skin burnt from one of the fires set by the orcs. There was no dressing covering the burn nor on the wound in her shoulder from an orc blade. Aragorn angrily turned to Eregdir. "Why has this woman not been treated?"

"She's marked red. There's nothing we can do, Sire." 

The King of Gondor gritted his teeth. Those marked red were considered beyond help. Green meant they could wait, while yellow meant they could be saved if they were treated quickly. Black was the color of those already dead. //Curse those foul orcs! Curse them that we have to choose who we can try to save and wait for the others to die!// "Who's there?" Aragorn knelt by the woman, who was barely conscious yet still aware of her surroundings. He knew she had to be in agony, but he could do nothing but perhaps ease her passing with words.

"I am. . . Estel." 

"Where's m'grandaughter? Where's Silhin?"

Not knowing for sure, Aragorn told her what he hoped was the truth. "She's fine. We are taking good care of her. You need to rest now, m'lady."

The old woman smiled. "M'lady. You're a good boy to try and make me feel important. A good boy. Like my Nardil. When he and his wife died I took in their Silhin. She's all I have." The woman's eyes filled with tears from the memory and the pain. "She's alright?" Aragorn reassured her again that Silhin was fine. The woman closed her eyes. "Good. I think I will rest now, like you said." She smiled slightly. "A good boy." With the last murmured comment, she slipped away. Aragorn could only pause a moment to mourn a woman he never knew before replacing the red mark with a black one and turning to leave to treat others. Before he could leave, though, he heard a small cry. Turning back he saw a little girl shaking the old woman.

"Gramma wake up. Gramma!" 

Gently pulling the girl away Aragorn knew this must be Silhin. "Young one, she can not wake up. She has gone to the Halls of Mandos."

Silhin shook her head, tears running down her cheeks. "But 'Palan said she'd be alright! He said the King would help her!"

Aragorn felt his heart break for the girl. "The King cannot heal everyone. I am sorry, but your Gramma is safe and isn't in pain anymore."

He held little Silhin as she cried, until a young woman from the village came and took her leaving him to tend to the others. //Curse those orcs that that little girl must lose her family.//

King Aragorn sighed tiredly. All the badly wounded had been treated. Most of the others could wait until more supplies arrived. Considering the medical supplies of the village had been burned by the orcs, they had managed to save many. After hours of screams and yells, the silence of the aftermath was deafening

Aragorn stood at the entrance of one of the tents. He only moved when Éomer walked up to him. "I should have seen it."

"Seen what?"

"The ambush. I should have seen it coming."

Éomer looked grimly at him. "I think we all underestimated the intelligence of these orcs, Aragorn. No one saw it coming."

Aragorn frowned. "I think. . . I think Faramir might have. I think he knew something was wrong, but wasn't quite sure what. I should have paid more attention to his farsight."

"Where is Faramir?"

"I don't know, I have been too busy with the wounded."

A woman's shrill scream interrupted their conversation. Not wasting a moment, the two kings ran towards the sound. They pushed through the small crowd, among the whispers of the people. "Who is it?" "She found him in an alley." "How did they miss him?" "Is he dead?" 

Finally Aragorn and Éomer reached the center of the crowds attention. The young woman who had taken Silhin stood in shock over an inert figure. She held Silhin close to her in an attempt at keeping the girl from seeing the body that lay in the shadow of a dark alley. Aragorn hurried and knelt by the motionless figure, a soldier by the looks of his muddy clothes. //He must have been looked over in the chaos.// The King of Gondor pressed his fingers against the man's neck. "He's alive. Someone set up a tent, the others are full." Aragorn gently turned the man over. Seeing the man's face, Aragorn reeled back with a soft gasp. "Tir!"

"By the Valar." Éomer knelt beside his sister's betrothed. Faramir's lips were tinted slightly green and beads of sweat dotted his forehead.

 Overcoming his shock, Aragorn quickly checked over his brother, noting the wound in his side. With strength he didn't know he had, the King of Gondor lifted the unconscious prince into his arms and walked briskly to where a few men were pitching a small tent. Gently laying Faramir on a cot, Aragorn examined the wound closer. A sick feeling rose in his stomach. "What is it? What is wrong?" 

Aragorn turned and looked up at Eregdir. "Morgul poison."

*^*end flashback*^*

//Morgul poison. Black sorcery. Valar, why? Why did it have to be morgul?// Breathing deep, Aragorn entered the tent. He found Éowyn kneeling next to Faramir. "My lady?" //Yes, formality is safe.// "My lady?"

Éowyn turned her tear-streaked face to the King. Standing shakily, she pleaded with her eyes for answers. "Lord Aragorn?" Aragorn turned his face away from her, looking instead at his brother. "Lord Aragorn, will you heal him now that we have brought supplies?"

With a jolt, Aragorn realized that she didn't know how helpless he was. She believed he could help Faramir; that they were just waiting for the necessary medicines. "Éowyn, I cannot heal him."

The White Lady of Rohan stared at him. "What?"

"I know that Éomer told you the wound is poisoned, but perhaps he neglected to mention that the poison is of morgul kind. This is beyond my power. Only Elrond, who holds the Elven Ring of Air, or Galadriel, the bearer of the Ring of Water, can heal him."

Éowyn felt ill. "When do they arrive?"

Aragorn looked sadly at her. "Not in time."

A rush of anger flushed Éowyn's pale cheeks. "Then you will just sit here and watch Faramir die? How could you? How _dare you! You call him your brother, but yet you, with all your healing powers and mighty airs, will do nothing to save him!" Éowyn was now irrational with grief, and did not check her words. "You do not deserve to be called his brother any more than Denethor deserved to be called his father!" Angrily she turned away from the King, again kneeling beside her beloved._

Aragorn paled at her words. It was as if she had slapped him across the face. To be compared to Denethor, a deranged man who tried to kill his own son. . . He looked again at Faramir who lay so close to death's door. For a moment Aragorn didn't see the dutiful Steward and Prince but the young boy who had nearly died saving him from a swollen river, who cried out in delirium for mercy from an abusive father. //Elbereth, why him? Why does he always have to suffer? He doesn't deserve this!// Without a word, Aragorn left Faramir's tent and walked dazedly to his own private one.

Arwen was there waiting for him. She took one look at his white face and softly embraced him. Her love and patience finally broke Aragorn. The tears he had kept back since finding Faramir streamed down his cheeks. Arwen led her husband to the cot and held him as he softly cried. "I am going to lose him, Arwen. I am going to lose my brother, just sit back and watch him die because I don't have enough power to heal him."

The Queen's heart ached to see Aragorn hurting so. "He needs elvish medicine then?"

"He needs Elrond or Galadriel. The poison in the wound is _ringnar_." The horror in Arwen's eyes was plain. "I can do nothing to help him, Arwen, and those who could are too far away." The tears were gone but the grief was not. "He was wounded saving me, I realize that now. I didn't see the orc behind me, but he saved me. And now he's dying. Éowyn is right, I do not deserve to be called his brother."

Arwen shivered and hugged Aragorn closer. She did not realize how close she had come to being in Éowyn's place. "Faramir would not have had it any other way. He knew what your death would mean for Gondor. And more than that, you *are* his brother. He would no more let you die than he would have let Boromir."

"I would take his place in a second if I could," he whispered.

"I know," Arwen answered, silently thanking the Valar that he couldn't.

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See, no cliffhanger! Well, not really. I mean, you still don't know what will happen to Faramir, but it's not _really a cliffie. I don't know when I'll update again, so enjoy this chapter!_


	7. Ch 6 Death

Hi! I am soooo sorry for not updating, but better late than never, huh? I got the TTT EV DVD and it is so awesome! The scene with Faramir, Boromir, and Denethor was so perfect. 

Reviewer responses:

Kathryn Angelle: Here's the cure for hives- an update! I definitely think Faramir is swoonworthy. In fact, I nearly fainted when some guy said he thought Faramir was _ugly_! Grrrrrr…

LeeAn: Alright, alright, it was a cliffie. And be warned, Evil Skittle has been at her work again.

The evil witch queen: Yah, Eowyn's being pretty mean to Aragorn, but she _is_ upset so I'd cut her some slack. And as for killing Faramir, well, I hate to say it but look at the title of the chapter.

XxDark Aura016xX: That is the greatest compliment you can give an angst writer, that I can make you cry. Thanks

Susan: I miss writing it. I haven't been able to write on the sequels, I've been busy writing a ghost story that should have been done by Halloween. (Seeing as it's nearly Christmas, I don't think I made my goal)

Anodien: Hi there, congrats on the volleyball win! I can't remember if I reviewed your poem but I thought it was really good. I'm your favorite author? *blushes* thanks! You're one of mine too! (That's a big hint meaning you need to update!) And I don't know why I like tormenting readers with chapter like the last one and this one. It's Evil Skittle's doing. God bless you this Christmas season!

Crystal Cold Tears: I'm so glad you like my stories. Hopefully the sequels will meet your expectations. I love angst and action as well. These mixed with Faramir makes for a good story. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Also thanks to Lucid Lady, char, Iavala, Natters, Alia G.L., Alex92, and Grendon for reviewing. Love you guys!  

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**Death**

            Éowyn rested her head on Faramir's shivering hand. Her body protested against kneeling so long on the hard, dusty ground; but she paid no attention to it, not wanting to leave Faramir even a moment to find a chair in fear that his spirit would leave before she returned. His breathing was raspy, a struggle for each gasp of air. He was fighting, but losing the battle for life. Éowyn's thoughts turned to Lord Elrond, far away in the unknown, mysterious city of Rivendell, the elf Faramir had adopted as father. She thought of the Lady Galadriel, the ethereal elf-queen of magical Lothlorien, who had seemed to know her very thoughts during their meeting at Aragorn's wedding. //If only she could read my thoughts now and save Faramir!//

            For a long time Éowyn knelt there, helpless to save the man she loved. Her eyelids drooped, her grief having drained her energy. A noise indicated that someone had entered the room. Looking up, Éowyn stared in shock! A tall man with intense grey eyes and dark hair framing pointed ears stood above Faramir's bed looking worriedly down at the Steward. "Lord Elrond!" It was indeed the Lord of Rivendell. "Aragorn said. . . he said you were too far away." 

            Elrond turned his gaze to Éowyn. "I am here now, Lady Éowyn, and will try to save my son." His eyes told her that he needed to be alone so she reluctantly left the tent. The streets outside were strangely deserted, but Éowyn barely noticed. The time from when she left Faramir's side to the time Elrond came out of the tent was a blur. All she could remember was Aragorn talking to her.

            "Elrond can save him. He already has lost his wife to death, he will not let Faramir follow."

            Now the words were fading as Elrond walked slowly to those waiting, hoping, for good news. But the look on the elf lord's face told them that it was not to be. Éowyn noticed that Elrond's face was pale from exhaustion and wet with tears. "He is too far gone." Éowyn's heart plummeted. Her last hope fled leaving an empty void in her soul. "Even my Ring does not have the power to save him." The Ring of Power glowed white like a cloud against the sky. "I can awaken him to say good-bye, but we must hurry for he does not have much time." 

            Elrond looked at Éowyn and she numbly nodded in understanding. She, Éomer, and Aragorn followed Elrond into the tent. Éowyn took her place next to Faramir's bed and held his cold hand. Elrond knelt on the other side and placed his hand over Faramir's heart. "Faramir, my son, wake now."

            Faramir's eyes fluttered open. He slowly scanned the room before his gaze settled on his elven father. "Ada?"

            "I am here, Faramir." Elrond could not keep the sad note from his voice.

            Faramir seemed to know as they did that his time was running short. "Good-bye Ada, I love you."

            Tears filled the elf lord's eyes. "I love you too, my son."

            Faramir's gaze moved to Aragorn. "Brother, do not blame yourself. I love you." Aragorn answered in kind, a knot welling in his throat. Faramir looked at Éomer. "Take care of Éowyn." Éomer nodded solemnly.

            Finally, Faramir turned his head and gazed into Éowyn's eyes. A weak hand brushed a tear from her cheek. "Farewell, min léof."

            Éowyn could barely see through her tears. "Faramir, please forgive me!"

            Faramir smiled. "I love you." He whispered hoarsely as the poison froze his lungs. "I. . . love. . . " The poison took total control, stealing away his breath completely. He squeezed her hand as he fought vainly for even a small wisp of air. 

Ultimately the futile struggled ended, Faramir's hand laying limply in Éowyn's. Elrond felt for a pulse, slowly shaking his head. "He is gone."

            Éowyn's heart broke. Sobs racked her body as she laid her head on Faramir's still chest. His heart no longer beat, its soothing sound gone forever. "Faramir," she sobbed. "Faramir!" But no answer would ever come. 

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Ok, before everyone starts hunting me down, remember. . . I have a mini-Balrog and Elladen does not take kindly to people trying to kill me. And for those who really, really, really want a hint for the next chapter (and there WILL be a next chapter), I have written a little riddle so that you don't have to wait in anguish to find out what happens. It will be posted as the next chapter, so don't go to it if you don't want to be spoiled. Oh and min léof means 'my love'. 


	8. spoiler Hint for the next chapter

Alright, here's a hint for those who can't wait for the next chapter. 

I know Vilya's a Sapphire ring,

And sapphire's the color of sky

But in this chapter I called it white

So for the dead, don't cry.

Hope that makes you feel better!


	9. Ch 7 Dealing

Hello everyone! I decided to give you a Christmas present and give you TWO chapters today. I have also seen ROTK twice already and I must say it is the best of the three (imo). The scenes with Faramir and Denethor were absolutely heart-wrenching. And boy is Faramir cute when unconscious and about to be barbequed! =D

Reviewer Responses:

Callie3= Thanks for the compliment. As I think I've mentioned before, these really aren't sequels because I wanted Faramir's story to stand alone, but I really wanted to write this too. Hopefully they will live up to your expectations. And why his dying words were so short is kinda explained here.

Iawen Londea= Hmmm. Twins. Well, I know they'll be in the sequels but you'll have to keep reading to see if they're in this one or the next. You know, it wasn't until I wrote Faramir's story that I actually began liking Faramir the best. You get attached to the characters you write. Hope you like this chapter.

 Argentum Draco= At least I'm updating before Christmas as a gift. And I'll give you a hint to the riddle…the answer is _not fish. =D poor Faramir, my preciousssss. Cruel authors hurtss you. Angsst followsss you. *gollum*. Ok, I'm done now. (note to self: drink less caffeine.)_

char= *hides behind Elladen* ummmm. Here, have a chapter. Please don't hurt me!

Kathryn Angelle= *Evil Skittle whistles, well, evilly* Can't answer, you'll have to read the chapter.

Niliwen= He does deserve a happy ending…but Tolkien already wrote it. Though I am feeling a bit guilty after watching ROTK. He really has been through a lot.

LeeAn= What happens to Faramir is up to me…and Evil Skittle. Unfortunately, Evil Skittle has grown in power after much sugar and caffeine. 

Anodien= I'm so glad you updated! And don't worry about Elladen, he likes good reviewers. Merry Christmas and God bless!

Anime_Richu= I can see you are very adamant about this. Just remember that in reality (er, in fictional reality?) Faramir lives happily ever after with Éowyn. And after seeing ROTK I almost wonder if Denethor does deserve to go through this. Grrrr.

OK, the reviews are starting to be longer than the chapter so I'll just thank you guys, as well as evil witch queen, Alex92, and Arahiril for becing such great readers! 

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**Dealing**

            "Éowyn. Éowyn!" She heard the voice, but paid no attention to it. Her grief was too great. "Éowyn, wake up, you are having a nightmare!" 

            //A nightmare?// The haziness of sleep faded as Éowyn felt someone shaking her. Beneath her head, she felt a shivering hand. Éowyn's eyes opened with a jolt as she remembered the details of what had happened. "Faramir!"

            A hand rested on her shoulder. "Faramir is still with us, for now." Éowyn looked up at her brother. "I walked in to find you crying in your sleep. You have not done that since you used to dream about Mother and Father's deaths."

            Éowyn lifted a hand to feel her cheek, sticky with tears. "It seemed so real, Éomer. Lord Elrond came, but even he could not save him." 

            Éomer knelt down beside his sister and hugged her tightly. He could feel her shaking against him and a burning anger rose within him. Anger at Faramir for putting Éowyn through this, anger at Aragorn for not being able to help, anger at the elves for not being here, but most of all he was angry at himself for being helpless to do anything for his sister. Éowyn was the only family he had left and he knew that when Faramir died she would fall into despair. The light in her eyes would go out, just as their mother's had years before at the news of their father's death. And like Mother, Éowyn would try to drive the despair away by never stopping, never sleeping, until a sickness drove her into an early grave. Then Éomer would be alone, the only thing left to him a cold throne and an empty house. 

            He gently released her. "Éowyn, you need to go outside, get some fresh air."

            "I won't leave him."

            Éomer looked at her sternly. "Do not make me order you to leave. I don't like using my power as king, but you need to get away and so help me I _will make you." At Éowyn's startled look, Éomer softened. "Please, sister. I will stay with him and alert you to any changes."_

 With great reluctance, Éowyn did as she was asked, leaving Éomer alone with Faramir. The King of Rohan narrowed his eyes at the dying man. "You cannot die, Faramir. If you leave my sister like this, I swear to you that when I die I will hunt you down in the otherworld and make your afterlife so miserable that you will beg to suffer under this poison again!"

~*~

            Éowyn left Faramir's tent with great reluctance. After being so long in the darkness, the sun's light blinded her for a moment. As her eyesight cleared, Éowyn gazed at her surroundings. She was on a small hill that looked down at the village of Tumbar. Éowyn watched as the villagers worked to repair the town, Rohirrim and Gondorian soldiers helping them clear debris and rebuild their homes. 

            "I shudder to imagine what would have happened had we not arrived in time." Éowyn jumped at the voice next to her. Turning, she found Aragorn staring down at the damage to the village. Aragorn continued speaking, his eyes never leaving the town. "Unfortunately, I have seen it happen before. Help arrived too late and all that is left are charred remains and dead bodies. It is very hard to bury mothers and their children when you knew you could have helped them had you been there."

            "Do not try to make excuses, my lord." Aragorn looked over at Éowyn. The White Lady of Rohan glared angrily at him. "Yes, I know that coming here saved these people and I agree it was the right thing to do. But nothing you say will make me forget that Faramir is dying. Nor will I forget who ordered him to come in the first place."

            Aragorn lost his temper. "I will have you know, Lady Éowyn, that I did not order him to come, he came on his own free will. And need I remind you that you also wished to come." Éowyn opened her mouth to speak, but Aragorn cut her off. "I also seem to remember that you were not happy about being left behind either and that you and Faramir argued before we left. I cannot help but wonder if your harsh words were the cause of his distraction in battle and resulting injury."

            Aragorn fully expected Éowyn to slap him, but she didn't. Her face just paled as the emotion in her eyes went from anger to shock to grief then back to anger. In one swift move, Éowyn swung her arm and punched the King of Gondor in the face. Not having expected _that, Aragorn nearly fell from the impact. He silently swore to himself. //I forgot she's a shieldmaiden. Of _course_ she wouldn't just slap me.//_

            His inner monologue was interrupted by a voice behind him. "You deserved that, Estel." Turning around, Aragorn found Arwen glaring at him. She had witnessed the entire exchange. "How dare you speak so to Éowyn! Her betrothed is dying and you tell her that she is the cause? Ada would be ashamed!" Still glaring, the elf-queen turned to Éowyn. "And so you should not blame Aragorn. He did not wish this upon Faramir anymore than you did! Faramir would not want either of you to act like this!" Arwen looked at her husband. "Now if you would remove yourself back to our tent, I wish to speak alone with Éowyn."

            Aragorn quickly obeyed, leaving the shieldmaiden with Arwen. The Queen's face softened.  "Éowyn, do not think of his words. No one but the orcs are at fault."

            "I cannot help but think of them, Arwen." It was obvious Aragorn's words had cut deeply into Éowyn's heart. 

            "Éowyn. . . "

            "No, please. I do not wish for comfort. I wish for Faramir to come back to me. And if I cannot have that, then I want only to be beside him before he. . . " She could not finish, could not say that word, so horrible, so. . .final. Éowyn turned her back on the elf and walked quickly back to Faramir's tent.

            Arwen didn't follow, knowing that nothing could console the Lady of Rohan except the return of her beloved. The Queen of Gondor watched as the sun set and the evening star rose in the sky. She thought of her father, the son of Eärendil the Mariner whose ship _was_ the evening star. Elrond had seen much trouble and heartbreak in his long life, from being seemingly abandoned by his parents, to the lost of his twin brother to a mortal life, to the capture and torture of his wife Celebrían at the hands of the orcs. //Will he be able to handle losing a son to death as he lost Mother to the Grey Havens?//

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Since The next chapter kinda goes with this one, I'll put it up as well. Merry Christmas! 


	10. Ch 8 Seeing

This chapter is a bit longer, and we are switching over to the lovely land of Lothlorien. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Seeing**

            Elrond, son of Eärendil and Elwing, Keeper of Vilya the Ring of Sapphire, former Herald of the High King Gil-Galad, and Lord of Rivendell found himself impatiently pacing back and forth in his room in Lothlorien like a frustrated child, waiting for something. He didn't even know what it was, but that something had been bothering him since leaving Rivendell and it was driving him mad! //I blame Galadriel. She was the one who sent for me, saying it was an emergency. And when I arrive, I find that she has no idea what the emergency is, just that there will be one and that I have to be here for it! If I didn't love Celebrían so much, I would wash my hands of this family!//

            "Lord Elrond?" He tried not to jump at the soft voice. Turning, he found himself face to face with Lady Galadriel, and incredibly glad he had been guarding his thoughts. It would not be good to have his clairvoyant mother-in-law 'accidentally' discerning his mental comments. "Lord Elrond, if you would accompany me, I would be happy to answer any questions you may have."

            Elrond frowned. "The only question I have is what this emergency is, and you said. . . "

            "I said that I did not know what the emergency was and that I would have to look into the Mirror. I have done so, but it only showed blurred figures and I cannot discern what was happening. I believe it will take our combined effort to focus the picture. My husband will join us as well." With that, Galadriel turned and left, slowing only to make sure Elrond was following. 

            The two elves descended from the heights of Caras Galadhon to Galadriel's Garden where she kept her Mirror from which she saw past, present, and future. Though Elrond had always felt uneasy about the Mirror, he knew that with the waning of the Power of their Rings the only way to quench his curiosity would be to help his mother-in-law. Already at the Mirror was the stern Lord of Lothlorien, Celeborn. A mighty elf lord of Doriath, Celeborn was not only the father of Elrond's wife, but also a kinsman of Elrond's grandmother, Nimloth. If having the stern elf as a father-in-law wasn't hard enough, having him as an elder kinsman could be downright intimidating at times. "My lord Celeborn." 

Celeborn acknowledged the younger elf with a nod. "Thank you for coming Lord Elrond," he said in a voice that amplified the regalness of his appearance. 

Galadriel moved quietly, filling the mirror with water from the silver fountain nearby. Standing next to the Mirror, she motioned for Elrond to stand beside her. After a pause of reluctance he did, Celeborn standing behind them. Galadriel spoke in a quiet, yet mystically powerful voice. "Elrond, this will work best if you look into the Mirror as I try to sharpen the image with Nenya. Celeborn will make sure the Rings' power does not overtake us." Elrond shuddered mentally at the thought. It he or Galadriel got too far pulled into the visions of the Mirror, the results could be devastating even with the Mirror's waning powers. 

With a stoic calmness he did not truly feel, Elrond leaned over slightly and stared into the silver basin. It did not take long for the elf lord's image to dissipate and the visions to appear. Elrond felt himself drawn into the images, dark figures walking through cobble streets. Distantly, he felt a surge of power that must have come from Nenya, Galadriel's Ring. The figures sharpened into real people, Men dressed in black mourning garb. Elrond recognized the city as Minas Tirith and he felt uneasy. For the whole city to be in mourning meant either the end of a war or the death of a city hero. He watched as women wept in the streets and men sometimes stopped their work to glance sadly at the banner on top of the Tower of Ecthelion. Instead of the usual emblem of the King, a black banner fluttered in the breeze with a large white star surrounded by several smaller stars. Elrond fought his rising panic. The large star could only mean that someone loved dearly by the people of Gondor was dead. Who could be dearer then his own son, Estel, who was their king?

Calm yourself, son of Eärendil. Do not pull yourself into your grief. 

Lord Elrond took a deep breath, running Galadriel's words through his mind as a barrier against his fear. //It is only a vision. It may not come to pass. It may not even be Estel.// The vision changed and Elrond found himself on the outskirts of an unfamiliar village in what seemed to be Gondor. There were signs of a recent orc attack, but the vision did not let him see the extent of the damage. Instead it took the elf lord to a tent, dark as a night in Mordor. He heard a woman sobbing inside, sobs that turned into screams of denial. The tent opened and two men dragged the screaming woman away. Then, just as suddenly as the sobs turned to screams, the woman collapsed to the ground. One of the men gathered her into his arms as she wept. The other man glared tearfully at the heavens, as if blaming the stars and the moon for his grief. With a horrible start, Elrond recognized the man as his son, Estel. //No.// The elf lord felt dread overwhelming him as he watched the woman, Éowyn, sobbing in her brother's arms. The realization that only one thing could cause this distress struck Elrond's heart like lightning. //NO!// Pulling himself deeper into the vision, Elrond ran into the tent, stopping by the lone cot inside. The elf lord felt his heart begin to break as he looked down on the motionless figure on the bed. The pale, lifeless face of his younger foster son stood out against the dark blankets. //No, Tir, please no!// He collapsed next to Faramir, gathering the Man's limp hand in his own.

As the grief of his loss seemed to drown him, Elrond felt a strange tugging sensation, like someone was trying to pull him away. He fought it, trying to stay with his son. 

Lord Elrond, you must pull back. You are falling into the vision.

The Lord of Rivendell recognized the voice, vaguely, but did not answer. He could not answer, not with Tir lying dead before him. 

Elrond, come back _now_! You are pulling both of us in, you must remove yourself! 

The voice held a hint of desperation. Elrond felt the pulling growing more insistent, but still he hesitated. He could not leave Tir, not like this.

He is not dead yet, it is only an image of what is to come. We must leave the vision _at_ _once, Elrond, or we will not return._

Celeborn watched in concealed anxiety as his wife and son-in-law sought the future. Though not as gifted as Galadriel in foresight, he felt ill at ease with what they were doing. That was why he had insisted on being there, to watch for the trouble that sometimes occurred when the Mirror was used. Celeborn frowned as he saw Elrond grab hold of the pedestal on which the Mirror stood. The younger elf's hands were white from gripping the hard stone and the emotion that played on his face worried his elder kinsman. Stepping closer, Celeborn recognized a look of concern on Galadriel's face, concern that soon turned to fear. Instantly Celeborn realized that they were being drawn into the vision. Grabbing his wife's shoulder, Celeborn shook her, trying to bring her out of her trance to no avail. The Sindar lord held back his fear and turned to his son-in-law. "Elrond. Elrond!" The elf didn't respond at all and Celeborn was dismayed to see tears welling in Elrond's deep, gray eyes.

The Lord of Lothlorien growled in frustration. //Thank you so much, Celebrimbor. These Rings of yours were such a good idea.// As it was, both Vilya and Nenya were pulsating blue and white light, respectively. The light reflected off the Mirror and suddenly an idea formed in Celeborn's mind. Stepping closer to the Mirror, Celeborn hesitated a moment. What he was about to do was extremely dangerous, both for himself and the two elves connected to the vision. A pained gasp from Galadriel threw all doubts from his mind. Gritting his teeth, Celeborn shoved his right hand into the Mirror, splashing the water from the basin and shattering the control it held on Elrond and Galadriel's minds. The force of the disruption threw all three of the elves backward onto the grass. 

Galadriel clutched her head against the throbbing pain that ran through it. Being torn thus from a vision left one feeling as if they had had too many drinks the night before. A hand touched her shoulder, and she looked over at her husband. Celeborn's eyes were full of concern for her, and Galadriel smiled slightly to reassure him that she was all right. But quickly, both turned their concern on Elrond who still held his head in his hands. Not really caring that she was the great Lady of Lothlorien, Galadriel crawled over and placed her hand on the back of his neck as she had done many times to comfort her daughter and then her grandchildren. "It may not come to pass, Elrond. The future is ever-changing, he may yet be saved."

Elrond looked up at the elder elf, his eyes wrought with grief. To Galadriel he seemed almost a child again with all those that he loved lost to him. The brief glimpse into the past ended as Elrond collected himself, hiding behind the expressionless mask that hid his pain, and stood shakily. "I leave for Gondor immediately," he stated firmly, his voice not betraying the quaking in his soul.

Celeborn helped his wife to her feet. When he was sure she could stand on her own, he strode forward and gripped his son-in-law's arm. "You must wait until you have regained your strength. You are in no condition to go anywhere, Elrond. Sauron may be defeated, but the road to Gondor still has its dangers. Weakened as you are, you would not survive an attack."

"I do not care! I am not going to sit here and do nothing when my son is in danger!"

Galadriel placed a light hand on the younger elf's shoulder. "Elrond, the vision showed the full moon. Ithil reaches his peak in four days, there is not enough time for you to reach him."

"I leave _immediately_!" Elrond's eyes blazed. No one was going to keep him from his son, not even the Lady of the Wood. 

"At least. . . " Celeborn's words were halted as Elrond tore out of their grasp and stormed away, though it was obvious to the elf lord's keen eyes that it was taking nearly all of the younger elf's strength to do so. 

"Let him go." Galadriel's soft voice stopped Celeborn from following. He glanced at his wife, an eyebrow raised in question. "Where that young one is concerned, subtlety is more useful than force." The shrewd yet sad look in Galadriel's eyes stopped him from saying anything. Unfortunately her sharp eyes soon turned to him. "Let me see your hand." She demanded calmly.

Celeborn tried to hide his right hand behind his back. "I don't know what you are talking about."

Galadriel smiled. "It does not take far-sight to realize how you broke the connection with the vision, now let me see before I call Haldir and his brothers to force you."

With a sigh, Celeborn held out his hand. It was red and blistered, the skin on his palm striped raw. "It doesn't hurt very. . . " he hissed in pain as Galadriel gently touched it. 

"Indeed. Come, we must see to this." The Lord and Lady of Lothlorien made their way slowly to their room, Galadriel leaning heavily on her husband's left side, Celeborn cradling his right arm against his chest. They stopped only once for Galadriel to give Haldir an assignment before they entered their own room. 

There Galadriel briskly went to work on her husband's hand. It would heal quickly on its own, but she wanted to clean it to guard against infection. She spoke sternly to Celeborn as she wrapped the wound, but with centuries as her husband Celeborn was able to detect a slight tremor in her voice. "It was very foolish to interrupt the vision like that. If something had gone wrong it would not have been just Elrond and I that died, but you as well. It would have been better had you let me try to pull us back."

"That did not seem to be working well."

Galadriel looked away from her husband's clear blue eyes. "Yes, but I do not want to risk losing you."

Celeborn lifted her chin so that she had to look at him. "I would risk anything for my _laurelin. My life would not matter if you were not in it."_

Galadriel was shocked to find that tears were filling her eyes. The exhaustion that had been threatening to overcome her broke down her hardened exterior. Wrapping her arms around her husband, Galadriel started crying softly. "Oh Celeborn, I can't imagine living without you." She thought of Éowyn in the vision, losing the love of her life, and hugged Celeborn tighter.

The Lord of Lothlorien held his wife close. "You will not have to. I will always be here. I promise." Slowly Galadriel's tears subsided and she found herself falling asleep. Celeborn gathered her into his arms and laid her on their bed. He leaned over and kissed her forehead. "I love you, my wife."

"Love you too." She murmured, half asleep already.   

Celeborn walked towards the door before pausing and turning around. "Galadriel?"

"Hmm?"

"What did you tell Haldir to do to Elrond?"

Galadriel opened one eye and sighed. "I did what was necessary. Though I doubt Elrond will ever forgive me."

Elrond stumbled around his room, packing haphazardly. His only thought was to get to Gondor as quickly as possible, hopefully in time to stop the vision from coming to pass. In his heart he knew that something had already happened, but the stubbornness of his human ancestors kept him on his weary feet. //Please Elbereth, let me be in time. He is not suppose to die, not yet.// He could not lose his son, he would not!

"Lord Elrond?"

He turned to the doorway where a tall, blonde elf stood. It was Haldir, a border guard of Lothlorien. "May I help you?" Elrond asked, not concealing his irritation at the interruption. Every moment mattered. 

Haldir held out a goblet of wine. "My Lady asked me to bring this to you. She said you would need refreshment before you left."

Had Elrond not been so fatigued he probably would have been more suspicious. As it was, he found that he was extremely thirsty and quickly accepted the wine. He drank half of it before setting it down on a table. Frowning, Elrond realized that Haldir was still there. "You may go . . . " The room started to spin and the elf lord's legs gave out from under him. He felt Haldir catch him before he hit the floor. "What?" As the world darkened, Elrond recognized the slightly sour taste in the wine. //She drugged me! No, you can't do this, I have to get to my son!// Unconsciousness took him, his world floating into the darkness of sleep. Elrond could only cry out in his mind, anger boiling against the elf who wouldn't let him help his child.

In her own room, Galadriel clutched her pillow as she heard Elrond's mental pleas and curses. //Forgive me, young one. It is the only way.// As she remembered the horrible time when her own child had been in mortal peril, Galadriel wept for the son in anguish and the father helpless to stop it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For those of you who don't know, Celebrimbor was the elf who forged the Rings of Power. This intelligent _Noldor had a little help from this innocent ol' guy named Sauron. Only the Elven Rings were untainted by Sauron because Celebrimbor actually did something smart and hid them from the Dark Lord. Unfortunately, the Elven Rings were still under control of the One Ring and when it was destroyed, the power of the Elven Rings faded and thus the time of the elves came to an end. Stupid Celebrimbor. *Elladen growls in agreement* _

I hope you don't mind how I portrayed Celeborn and Galadriel's relationship. It seems silly to me that they would be just as aloof with each other as they were with the Fellowship. Also, Celeborn does _not_ hide behind Galadriel's skirts, he is a powerful elf lord and Elladen gets to eat anyone who says otherwise. (jk, but I am very protective of my elves and their reputations) That's just my two cents (actually it's probably more like a dollar, but you know what I mean). If you have any other questions, ask in your review and I'll answer them.

Additional author's note: Celeborn calls Galadriel _laurelin as a pet name. It is the name of the golden tree of Valinor and would fit her. Anyway, back to Faramir in the next chapter, but I needed to get the elves in here somewhere. Merry Christmas!_


	11. Ch 9 Hope

I am sooo sorry for not updating recently. Life has been hectic and I didn't have time. Forgive me?

Reviewer's response

Falling for You= Glad you enjoy the story. Faramir/Éowyn are my favorite couple too and I wished they had put more of them in ROTK. 

Callie3= I noticed that too in the movie. Perfect, huh? I must be phsycic =D . That was my favorite scene in ROTK. (Until the Extended Version in which it will change to the Houses of Healing)

Emerald Phoenix2= sorry for waiting so long to update. Sorry but there wont be another kinslaying (though I'm sure that's only because Celeborn and Glorfindel stop him)

Susan= I really like Celeborn, so I definitely wouldn't show him weak. It really annoys me when people do that.

Arahiril= I'm glad you liked the chapters. Sorry for the long wait, hope you still have hair left. ;)

Jedi Master Calriel= shhhhhhh! Don't give it away! 

Alex92= Actually he doesn't suffer as much in this story as he will in the third sequel. (I actually am almost done with the third one and barely into the second one.)

fan81891= Thanks for your input. I will definitely try to work on conversations more. I know my sentences tend to run on and I'm really working on it. Actually I originally had her slapping him until I realized the punch would fit her personality better. Thanks for reviewing!

Yuki's First Love= Faramir's story tends to sound more Tolkienish in the later chapters since I pulled a lot of dialog straight from the book. But it was too hard for me to write that myself, so I do the best I can (I try very hard not to use contractions except in thoughts and when emotions are high.) As for torture, read the note to Alex92.

Jewel= It isn't me who is evil, it's Evil Skittle my evil alter ego. I also get teary eyed at the Boromir scene, more so now that I've written Faramir's story.

the evil witch queen= hehehe. I know I'm evil (well, Evil Skittle). My space bar works up sometimes too on one of the computers. I think my computer hates me.

Laheara= You will see! Hahahahhahahahhahhahaa *cough**cough* sorry.

Also, thanks to arwen's-light, Kathryn Angelle, Alia G.L., LeAnn, Niliwen, and tournesol for reviewing! And now, without further ado….

**Hope**

            Ælfwine, a Rider of Rohan, gritted his teeth in frustration. He had been sent on an urgent mission by Éomer King to reach the elf kingdom of Lothlorien. Unfortunately his horse, Déor, had tripped over a hidden stone and lost a horseshoe. There was no way to put it back on and Ælfwine could not ride him hard for fear of laming him. King Éomer had spoken vaguely in the message to the elves, used words that Ælfwine did not completely understand. But one thing he gleaned from the message was that the King's future brother-in-law was gravely injured. As one who had served in the Great War, Ælfwine knew that the Steward Faramir was held in great esteem by many, King Éomer included. The Rider kicked the ground. He would have to find a nearby town and trade Déor for a fresh horse, but it would take awhile. In his heart, though, Ælfwine knew that the Steward did not have that time.

            "Do you require assistance, young one?" Ælfwine jumped at the voice and whirled around to see an old man sitting on a great white horse that looked vaguely familiar to the man of Rohan. The Rider couldn't believe he hadn't heard him ride up. But it did present a miraculous opportunity.

            "Please sir, may I borrow your horse? Mine has lost its shoe and I have an extremely urgent message for the Lady of Lothlorien from my king."

            The old man frowned. "I am afraid my horse will not suffer you to ride him." Ælfwine nodded in understanding, but inside he screamed in frustration. His king had entrusted him with this task and this man would not help him. The old man seemed to see what he was thinking and smiled. "I did not say that I would not help. I am a friend of the Lady Galadriel. What is the message?"

~*~

            As the sky lightened with the coming morning, Aragorn checked Faramir's pulse. It had been steadily slowing down over the last few hours until now it was barely noticeable. Faramir's harsh breathing was becoming more sporadic as his lungs slowly shut down. The King of Gondor glanced down at Éowyn who was staring at her betrothed as if willing him to keep breathing. Éomer stood in the shadows caused by the candlelight, ready to be there for his sister in the end. Aragorn wished that Arwen had stayed, but she had insisted that it was not her place to witness Faramir's death. Though his foster sister, she had never met him before the War of the Ring and felt that only family belonged. Thus she stayed in her tent, waiting for news.

            The King of Gondor silently sat back in his chair. All at once, the sight of his brother dying grew too much and Aragorn shut his eyes, closing out Faramir's green-tinted lips and pale, deathlike face. //Why? Why him, why Tir? It should have be me, if fate had been fair it *would* have been me! Please, Eru, let him be spared! Take me instead, spare my brother!// Tears threatened to fall from Aragorn's eyes. //Please.//

            "My lord!" A young soldier rushed into the tent. "My lord, someone approaches at great speed from the North!" 

            Aragorn did not look up, just acknowledging the soldier with a small nod. Éomer glanced questioningly at his friend, then followed the young Gondorian out of the tent. Aragorn barely noticed that the King of Rohan had left. "Aragorn, come quickly," shouted Éomer from outside. Reluctantly, the King of Gondor rose and left Éowyn and Faramir alone. Exiting the tent, Aragorn felt a bolt of hope run through him like lightning. Before him stood an old man dressed in white robes, who had just dismounted a white horse. 

            "King Elessar, I pray that I am not too late."

            For the first time in days, Aragorn smiled. "I thought a wizard was never late, Gandalf."

            Gandalf smiled slightly. "So I did. But I fear time is running out. As fate would have it, I ran into a young Rider of Rohan bearing a message to Galadriel about the young Steward. Perhaps I can be of assistance."

            The smile left Aragorn's face. "I wish you could, my old friend. But the poison in the wound is *ringnar*. Only a Bearer of a Ring of Power can bring him back."

            "Then it is fortuitous that the Bearer of Narya stands before you." Gandalf brought his hand up to show the scarlet Ring of Fire to a startled Aragorn. "Now, where is he?"

~*~

            Éowyn glanced up in surprise as Gandalf strode quickly into the tent and knelt beside Faramir. She said nothing as he gently pulled back Faramir's blankets and unbandaged the wound. The laceration had not healed though it did not bleed badly. Éowyn grimaced as she saw the green liquid of the poison ooze slowly from the wound. Gandalf, though, smiled slightly. "This is good." Aragorn, Éowyn and Éomer must have looked at the wizard incredulously for he elaborated. "At least he is still fighting the poison. Had he given up the wound would have closed, keeping the *ringnar* inside his body."

            Although indignant at the insinuation that Faramir would give up fighting, Éowyn bit back those words, instead asking, "Can you help him?"

            "I will do my best, Lady Éowyn." Gandalf felt Faramir's head, frowning at the heat of the skin. "I will need ice for the fever."

            Aragorn shook his head. "A village this small and this far south would not have ice in October."

            "Nevertheless, if there is ice anywhere I will need it. If the poison does not kill him, the fever will." The King of Gondor agreed and sent a soldier to ask around the village for ice. 

            Meanwhile, Éowyn frowned. "But the fever is not bad, I have seen much worse!"

            Gandalf looked gravely at her. "That is so, but I fear the only way to destroy the poison is to raise Faramir's internal body temperature drastically. It is extremely risky, but it is the only way."

            The wizard waited as if asking for her permission. Éowyn looked down on Faramir's pale face and ran her fingers through his dark, wavy hair. Trying to bravely hold back tears, Éowyn nodded her assent. "Do what you must to save him."  

            Gandalf tried to smile encouragingly at her, but his heart was not behind it. Closing his eyes, the White Wizard held his left hand over Faramir's poisoned wound. A red glow spread from his second finger and Éowyn was amazed to see that a golden ring with a red stone was the source of the light. //It must be the Third Elven Ring of Power. Or maybe wizards have their own Ring.// Éowyn was pulled from her thoughts by Faramir harshly gasping for breath. Grabbing his hand, she was shocked to find that it was hot to touch. A hand to his brow confirmed that Faramir's fever was rising rapidly. Éowyn tried to quell her fear to no avail. She had not expected it to increase so swiftly and she could not help to think about what a Healer had once told her about fevers. ^^Should the patient's temperature raise too high it could cause death, or, if the patient survives, their head will be addled, never returning to their old state of mind.^^

            Éowyn shook her head to clear her thoughts. //I will not think of that. It will not happen, not to Faramir!// Still, Faramir's fever continued to rise. A hand placed a wet cloth on the Steward's head and Éowyn looked up into her brother's face. Éomer's eyes were grim. "We need ice. Water alone will not help."

            Faramir cried out softly, his whole body rigid from pain. Éowyn silently willed the soldier Aragorn had sent for ice to hurry. As if an answer to her prayer, the soldier suddenly burst into the tent, a young boy in tow. Both held wooden buckets, and to Éowyn's relief they were filled with ice shaves. The soldier, winded from hurrying with the heavy buckets, quickly handed the ice to Éomer. The King of Rohan took the wet cloth from Faramir's head and placed some ice on it before laying it back. Éomer gave his sister a small smile that did not reach his eyes. "Now we wait."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And now, you must wait for the next chapter. Hoped you liked it!


	12. Ch 10 Fighting

Wow I updated! February must be getting to me. The shortest month of the year, yet it feels like the longest. 

Reviewer responses

Callie3= Sorry, but I love Faramir to much to change him…a lot. 

Arahiril= whoa, you just made me realize that I didn't answer how they got the ice. I had planned on doing that but the story got away from me. So **ATTENTION ALL READERS!** The ice comes from a deep cave in which the people store ice for the summer. Maybe I'll write a short story or poem explaining that. Thanks for bringing that to my attention.

arwen's-light= Well, Aragorn could have known but to my knowledge Tolkien never said, so I just say he didn't. Hope you don't mind.

Selina= Glad you like my stories. I love Faramir/Éowyn stories a lot as well. I really missed their scenes together in the movie. *pouts*

Thanks to Alex92, mai, Kathryn Angelle, and Lydia2 for reviewing!

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**Fighting**

            Lord Elrond scowled at the tall, blond Imladris elf. Unaffected by Elrond's daunting glare, Glorfindel did not relent. "My lord, the horses need to rest. We are already pushing them to their limits. And you are still not completely recovered from the Mirror."

            Sighing, Elrond knew his advisor was right. The horses needed rest, and though it aggravated him, so did he. Even with the little drugged sleep Galadriel had forced on him, the incident with the Mirror had drained the elf lord's strength considerably. Still glowering, Elrond assented to Glorfindel's suggestion. After taking care of his horse, the lord of Imladris folded his arms and sat down beneath a tree. Closing his eyes, Elrond's mind took him to the terrible vision. Visualizing the unknown town, he used the surroundings to place the location of his sons. //We are still so far. I am needed, I can feel it. Yet I am helpless to do anything! Curse you Galadriel, how dare you keep me from my son!// Elrond hit the back of his head against the tree. "Ouch." He rubbed his head, having hit it harder than he had intended.

            Glorfindel watched his friend and lord worriedly. The journey to Gondor had been harder than anticipated. He and Elrond had nearly stumbled into a small band of orcs, saved from a confrontation only by their quiet horses and elvish senses. Not only that, but Elrond was in an incredibly bad mood. Most of Caras Galadhon had heard the elf lord when he had woken up from his unwilling sleep. The blonde elf could not blame his lord for his worry, though, especially after learning what Elrond had seen in Galadriel's Mirror. Both Glorfindel and his wife Eluial had been very fond of Tirpalandil during his time at Rivendell. //He's Faramir now. Ai, it is still hard to believe that the little boy who wouldn't speak is now the Steward of Gondor.// Glorfindel sighed again as he saw Elrond hit his head against the tree. Walking over, he sat down next to the dark-haired elf. "Elrond, mellonim." Glorfindel paused, then grabbed his friend by the shoulders. "Get a hold on yourself! You cannot change anything by worrying, and you certainly cannot help Tir by attacking that poor tree!" Letting go of the startled elf lord, Glorfindel smiled. "Furthermore, it is common knowledge that he attracts injuries like light attracts moths. He has survived before, he is strong enough to survive whatever happens."

            The blonde elf's speech had no effect on Elrond. "I saw him *die* Glorfindel! In all my years, I have never foreseen the death of one of my family. I did not foresee Celebrían's passing, nor Arwen's choice of mortality."

            "That does not mean that Tir will die. The future is always changing with each choice that is made. No one can truly know what will happen. We must trust that the Valar will protect him until we get there, or pray that someone else will help him." Glorfindel patted Elrond on the shoulder before rising. "Now get some sleep. I will keep watch."

            Elrond watched his old friend walk away and bit back another sigh. //I do not *want* to sleep. I want to help my son!// Unfortunately, his body *did* want to sleep and against his will, Elrond's eyes glazed over as he wandered in the world of elven dreams. Still, his mind was never far from the son who was even then fighting for his life. 

~*~

            Faramir felt himself sinking into the depths of the dark ocean. His mind wandered into darkness and hope had left him long ago. Only the memory of the beautiful woman dressed in white kept him from giving up completely. Her name eluded him, but he knew that she wanted him to stay, didn't want him sinking to bottom of the sea. But he was tired, so tired. He couldn't keep afloat; it was so hard to breathe.

Suddenly the dark storm clouds were pushed away by a bright, red light. For a moment, Faramir was blinded and he struggled to blink away the glare.

Faramir.

Who was that? Someone was calling to him again, not the woman, but still someone familiar.

Son of Denethor, it is not your time yet.

//Who are you? Why can't you leave me in peace?// Strangely enough, the voice found that amusing.

Young one, if I leave you here the kings of the two most powerful lands in Middle Earth will have my hide for their rug. Not to mention what Lady Éowyn would do to me.

That name. It was the name of the woman in white. //Éowyn?//

The voice chuckled. Yes, Faramir. She is waiting for you. You have given her quite a scare.

Memories started coming back to him. //Mithrandir? Is that you?// Though the voice did not answer, Faramir could sense that the wizard was nodding. //Mithrandir, I cannot return, it is cold and I do not have the strength.//

You have the strength, son of Elrond. the red light glowed brighter and Faramir felt it warm him from the inside, like hot soup on a snowy day. Come now. They are waiting.

Gathering what strength he had left, Faramir fought against the dark waves, while the crimson glow burned a path trough the darkness. He felt the light grow hotter almost to the point that it was unbearable. Pain laced through Faramir's side and his head swam from the intense heat. It hurt, it hurt so much he couldn't see straight.

Push back the pain, young one. Do not let it stop you.

Fatigue and agony threatened to drag him down again, but Faramir fought. He fought for himself, for his family, for Éowyn. Finally he reached the end, the light was blinding, the heat blistering, but still he pushed on. //I am coming.// With his last ounce of strength, Faramir threw himself forward in a desperate attempt to live.

~*~

            Éowyn watched helplessly as her beloved Faramir's face twisted in pain. His hands tightly gripped the blankets as the red light from Gandalf's Ring grew brighter. Soon those inside the tent had to shield their eyes from the crimson glow.

            All at once, the light disappeared, seemingly sucked back into the Ring of Power. Gandalf sank back into his chair as Faramir's body went limp. The silence was deafening, and Éowyn realized, to her horror, that she could no longer hear Faramir gasping for air. Before she could do anything, however, Aragorn was by his brother's side, smiling with relief. When Éowyn had calmed herself she saw the steady rise and fall of Faramir's chest. He was alive, alive! All the tension, all the fear, seemed to melt out of her and Éowyn laid her head next to her betrothed. Taking his hand in hers, the exhausted Éowyn finally smiled as she fell asleep to the steady pulse of Faramir's heart.

~*~

Aragorn did not know how long he just sat there, watching his brother. The ice had brought down Faramir's fever, and though still pale, Aragorn could see life returning to him. The King of Gondor looked at Gandalf who had not moved from his chair, still tired from the healing. The old wizard had saved his brother, yet Aragorn did not know how to express his thanks. No words seemed to feel right. So Aragorn simply said, "Thank you." And Gandalf knew what he meant and smiled.

Éomer was the first to move. Covering his sleeping sister with a blanket, the King of Rohan turned to Aragorn. "You should get some rest." Aragorn began to protest, but Éomer would not hear it. "Besides, Queen Arwen would wish to hear the good news from you. I do not think Faramir will waken until later today anyway."

That Aragorn agreed with and he reluctantly left for his own tent. There he found Arwen pacing back and forth. When she he entered, she ran up and threw her arms around him. "Estel, I saw Gandalf. Did he. . .?"

Aragorn held his wife tightly. "He is alive. Tir's alive." That was all he could get out before the lump in his throat stopped his words. But it was enough. Arwen led him to their bed and stroked Aragorn's hair as the exhausted king fell asleep. The Queen of Gondor sighed. //Ai Elbereth! He's alive. He's alive.//

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He's alive! And there was much rejoicing. (hmmm, I suddenly just got the sudden urge to watch Monty Python) I figured you guys are all so great that I wouldn't leave you with a cliffie. Think of it as a after-Groundhog's Day present.


	13. Ch 11 Awakening

Hiya! I hope it hasn't been too long of a wait for you. Pretty much the excitement's over now, the last chapters are the denouement (that means the unraveling of the story from the climax to the end for all those people who doodled LOTR characters through English. *ignores the fact that she is guilty of said crime*) 

Reviewer Responses

Queen of the Elven City= Only 11 more reviews and I'll have 100 *hint hint*

Carrie S= I'm not _that_ nice. I killed Legolas once….then I brought him back because I just 

couldn't keep him dead. Hmmm, I guess I am too nice.

Celenor= Thank you for reviewing, I am glad you liked it.

Arahiril= Well, this chapter and the next chapters do get a little sappy, but hey, after the excitement you need a little sap. =D  Don't worry about the Ice Incident, I need readers to keep me on my toes. Thanks.

arwens-light= Cheers! *holds up Mountain Dew* Glad you liked the chapter. 

I LOVE LEGOLAS= I do not like Denethor either. Evil, pyromaniacal, jerk! 

 the evil witch queen= Yup, Elrond should be very happy. But that is another chapter.

Alex92= The quote is perfect, thanks. *gives Alex92 a big smile* Hope you enjoy this chapter.

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**Awakening**

            The first thing Faramir realized when he woke up was that he was lying on a cot in a black tent, and that there was an annoying bird chirping outside. The second thing he realized was that his arm hadn't woken up with the rest of him. A head with a bundle of golden hair was laying on it. //Éowyn?// Faramir shifted slightly, trying to move his arm without disturbing her, but she seemed to have a death grip on his hand. "Éowyn," he whispered, startled when his lungs burned slightly from speaking. The Steward considered moving his other hand, but he was too tired to do more than think about it. Anyway, his side hurt and moving would only aggravate it. 

            So Faramir contented himself with just watching Éowyn sleep. Her clothes were wrinkled, her hair was tangled, yet Faramir still thought she was the most beautiful woman in Middle Earth. //But why is she here, I thought she stayed in Minas Tirith? How did *I* get here for that matter, the last thing I remember, we were ambushed and I was injured. That would be the pain in my side. There was something else, I think we won, but the memory seems so blurry. I will have to think about it later.// 

            Faramir shifted his arm again and this time it woke Éowyn up. Blinking, Éowyn turned her head to face Faramir. To her delight, he smiled at her. "Good morning, love," he whispered. Faramir was not expecting his words to make Éowyn burst into tears. Somewhat confused, Faramir nonetheless gathered his strength and held out his arms to her. "Come here." 

Éowyn needed no prompting as she hugged him back, burying her face in his shoulder. "I am so sorry, so sorry. I didn't mean it, I am so sorry." Tears kept her from saying anything else.

Surprised, Faramir stroked her hair to comfort her. "Shhhh, love. Everything is alright."

Éowyn lifted her head to look him in the eyes. "No it is not alright! I yelled at you when all you did was think of me, I said things I didn't mean in anger. And then you were injured. . . " Her voice caught at the memory.

Still in the dark, Faramir just thought that she was worried about the apparent wound in his side. "I think it is just a scratch, not very deep. It is nothing to worry about," he whispered, his lungs still hurting. He did not anticipate Éowyn's reaction. //Why does everything I say make her cry? Éowyn rarely cries, unless you count King Theoden's funeral, she cried fountains there. But that is to be expected at a funeral of a loved one, not at just a small injury.// Deciding that keeping his mouth shut would be best, Faramir just continued to stroke her hair.

            Finally Éowyn's tears stopped. Realizing that holding Faramir so tightly would not be good for his healing body, she reluctantly let go, though still keeping a firm grip on his hand. "Faramir can. . . can you forgive me? Can you forgive me for the words I said to you before you left? I did not mean them, but I let my anger take a hold on me." She could not look at him, could not look into his piercing eyes. "It has torn my heart thinking of what I said. If those words had proved true, it would have destroyed me completely! Please, forgive me, my love!"

            Éowyn felt Faramir's hand lift her head, which forced her to look at him. Instead of anger in his eyes, she saw only love, compassion, though also a little hurt. "Éowyn, I have already forgiven you. Do you think so little of me that you would believe me to begrudge you your anger? I should have explained myself better, my reasons that I did not wish you to come. . . "

            He was blaming himself for her actions! Éowyn could not bear it. "Stop, please! You were not the cause of my anger. No matter what you did, had you given me a nicely written list of reasons why I should not go, I would have been just as irrational! I felt that you thought I could not handle myself in the fight and I did not see that you were just worried for my safety. Then you left and I had not told you how much. . . how much I love you."

            Hearing those last three words warmed Faramir's heart and he smiled. "I love you too, Éowyn." He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. Neither said anything for a few minutes before Faramir whispered again. "As much as I would love to just lay here looking at you, I am a bit confused at why you are here."

            "King Elessar sent for me when you were injured. I arrived yesterday."

            Faramir frowned. It would have taken awhile for the messenger to get to Minas Tirith and for Éowyn to arrive. "How long have I been asleep?"

            "You have been unconscious for at least three days."

            "Three days!" Faramir raised his voice above a whisper and gasped when his lungs began burning more painfully. Squeezing his eyes shut, he forced himself to breathe slowly until the pain faded. Faramir opened his eyes to find Éowyn looking at him worriedly. "I am alright," he whispered. "It seems that speaking loudly is not an option right now."

            "Good, you are awake." The new voice startled the couple. Faramir was even more startled when he saw Gandalf the White walk into the tent. 

            "Mithrandir? Why are you here?"

            Gandalf walked over to Faramir's side. "To take care of you. How do you feel?"

            "My side hurts and for some reason my lungs feel like I have breathed fire." 

            The wizard nodded. "That is to be expected. Now I need to ask you a few questions." Though still confused, Faramir agreed. "What is your name?"

            "What?" Faramir asked incredulously.

            "Please just answer the question. What is your name?"

            "Faramir, Steward of Gondor and Prince of Ithilien."

            "How old are you?"

            "36."

            "What month and year is it?"

            "October of the year 3019 of the Third Age."

            "What is your father's name?" This was getting ridiculous.

            "Real or blood-father?"

            "Both please."

            "Elrond Peredhel and Denethor son of Ecthelion."

            "Brothers?"

            "Boromir son of Denethor and Estel, Elladan, and Elrohir, the sons of Elrond."

            "What is 3 added to 6?"

            "9, Mithrandir is this necessary?"

            "Yes. Who was the first King of Numenor?"

            "Elros Tar-Minyatur"

            "Please recite the line of the Stewards beginning with Hurin."

            Luckily Éowyn interrupted. "Gandalf, I do not think he needs to do that. We will be here all day!" Still, she was relieved. //At least now it is obvious that the fever did not harm his mind.//

            "Very well. Everything seems fine anyway. You seem to be in good health young one, considering."

            "Considering *what*?"

            "Your wound."

            Faramir's nerves were being tested considerably. "The last time I checked, a side wound did not effect one's memory."

            Gandalf looked pointedly at him. "Surely Lord Elrond taught you _something_ about sword-wounds, especially those caused by orc swords."

            A moment's thought and Faramir finally understood. "You mean poison."

            "Indeed, young one."

            "What kind of poison was it?"

            The wizard hesitated. Perhaps it wasn't wise. . . no, Faramir's scholar mind would give him no rest if he didn't know. "Perhaps Lord Elrond has told you about _ringna_*."

            Faramir's eyes widened. "_Ringnar_!" He winced again. //Ok, definitely no more raising my voice.// When the pain settled down, Faramir continued. "He told me that it was always fatal for there is no known cure." Which raised the question of why he was still alive.

            "There has always been a cure, though it has been unknown for many years and is now known." Before Faramir could say anything about wizards who speak in riddles, Gandalf walked out of the tent. "I shall inform King Elessar that you have woken."

            Faramir looked at Éowyn. "I still do not understand why he was asking those questions." Before Éowyn could speak, though, he shook his head. "On the second thought, I do not wish to know." Faramir smiled at his fiancée who squeezed his hand and smiled back. 

            It did not take long for Aragorn to stride into the tent. Seeing Faramir awake, the King of Gondor grinned. "Thank the Valar!" Aragorn grabbed his brother's arm in a warrior's grip. "Don't ever do that to me again, Tir!"

            "Do what?"

            Aragorn softly punched Faramir's shoulder. "Almost get yourself killed, that is what!"

            Faramir grinned. "I cannot help that I seem to attract trouble wherever I go."

            The King rolled his eyes, looking very unkingly. "Faramir, I may just have to lock you in the Tower of Ecthelion and feed you through a hole in the wall to keep you safe."

            "The Tower would probably catch on fire, or collapse, or someone would poison the food."

            "You are probably right." The three laughed, but then Aragorn's face grew solemn. "We thought we had lost you, Faramir. If Gandalf hadn't arrived . . ." 

            Faramir saw something else in Aragorn's eyes. Turning to his betrothed, Faramir squeezed her hand. "Éowyn," He didn't even have to finish his request. Éowyn nodded and kissed his forehead before exiting the tent to find Éomer. Faramir looked at his brother. "What is it?"

            Aragorn looked down. "It is my fault you were hurt."

            The Steward bit his tongue to keep from groaning. "Why are you blaming yourself for my actions? You did the same thing after the incident with the river. It was not your fault that I could not block the orc."

            The King frowned, still wallowing in guilt. "Do you even remember how you were injured."

            Faramir winced at the memory. "Yes, I remember. I doubt I will ever forget."

*^*flashback*^*

            Faramir gritted his teeth as he slashed through another orc. //I should have been prepared for this, I *knew* something was wrong!// The building next to him burst into flames and he had to twist away to avoid a falling beam. //They are trying to burn down the town!// Faramir thought about the innocent villagers. They were losing their homes and their lives, more each moment the soldiers of Gondor and Rohan did not finish the orcs off. 

            With grim determination, Faramir fought orc after orc. Somehow he made his way to his King's side. Aragorn was cutting down orcs with a fury and did not even notice the Steward. Or the orc coming up behind him ready to end the King's life. //No!// Forgetting the rest of the battle, forgetting the other orcs, Faramir angrily beheaded the orc that dared try to take the life of his brother. //I am _not_ losing Estel as I did Boromir!// Faramir was strangely satisfied to hear the shrill dying scream of the orc, but then realized that another was coming after him. Having been too preoccupied with saving Aragorn, Faramir turned to face the new threat too late. A burning pain in his side left Faramir disoriented, but enough in his wits to kill the orc. Bending over from the pain, Faramir had only a moment before he forced himself to continue fighting.

            The rest of the battle was a blur. Faramir's side screamed in agony and the world seemed to rock like a storm-tossed ship. But soon the fighting stopped, the orcs either killed or scattered. The Steward walked unsteadily on his feet. //Why is the ground moving? Why can't I see straight?// He heard a sniffle nearby and looked down (or what he thought was down), startled to see a little girl who looked to be ten-years-old. //What's she doing here? Too dangerous for her.// "Are you all right, little one?" he asked, surprised when he felt out-of-breath from that one sentence. 

            The little girl looked tearfully up at him. "I'm scared. I lost Gramma and I was so afraid of the monsters." She began crying again.

            Faramir kneeled, nearly falling over as the ground seemed to move again. Putting his hand on her shoulder, he gave the girl what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "The monsters are gone. You do not need to worry."

            "Gramma was hurt. They took her away to be healed but it was really bad."

            Why was the world spinning so much? "I am sure she will be fine. The King is here, he will heal her."

            The girl looked at him hopefully. "Really?"

            //I certainly hope so.// "Really."

            She smiled at him and got to her feet. "Let's go now!"

            At the moment, Faramir did not think he could stand, let alone walk. "You go ahead, I will try and catch up." //Healer would probably be a good idea.//

            The girl nodded. "Ok then." She started to walk away, but turned back as if forgetting something. "Oh, I'm sorry. Gramma says it's impolite to not 'introduce' myself. My name's Silhin. What's yours?"

            //Name? What's my name?// His head hurt, he couldn't think. //-ir. Something -ir. Kir? Wir? Wait, Tir! Tirpala-something. Oh that's it!// "My name's Tirpalandil."

            Silhin frowned at the long name. "'Kay. See ya 'Palan!" Waving at the Steward, Silhin walked off, searching for the King who could save her Gramma.

            Faramir barely noticed her departure. //Head hurts. Side hurts. Hard to breathe.// His mind muddled, Faramir struggled to his feet. //Need a healer.// He tried to walk, making a few unsteady steps before collapsing, not even noticing that he was in a dark alleyway. 

            The pain was nearly unbearable as Faramir struggled to stay awake. In the back of his confused mind, he knew that he should not fall asleep. He tried to call out, but his lungs ached and he couldn't manage more than a whisper. "Estel."

            It seemed like he struggled for days, though it was only a few hours. Memories flashed in his mind, but Faramir could not focus on them, could not even think of the names of the people he saw, people he knew were important. //Help. Someone.// He heard a loud scream, but it seemed like it came from another world. There were voices, familiar voices, but the darkness of unconsciousness claimed Faramir and he knew no more.

*^*end flashback*^*   

"Tir?" 

Aragorn's voice brought Faramir back to the present. "Forgive me, my mind wandered. Seriously, though, you were not the cause of my injury. Soldiers are wounded, that is a proven fact I believe. I just happened to be the lucky one to be injured with the one sword coated in _ringnar_."

Relieved at least that Faramir did not blame him, Aragorn pushed back the strange feeling in his heart from his brother's words and smiled. "Very well, we will speak no more of it."

"Good, now when can we go home?"

Faramir looked as if he were ready to get up then and there to ride back to Minas Tirith. Aragorn had forgotten how his brother did not like being stuck in bed. "Éomer and his men will be setting off early tomorrow since they have the farthest to go. Arwen will return to the city as well with all but the White Guard at the same time. The rest of us will stay here until you are fully healed. The woman who found you and her husband have offered to share their home with us until then."

"I feel fine now, just a little tired."

The King of Gondor frowned. "First of all, you can barely move from the exhaustion of fighting the poison. Second, you are still talking in a whisper because your lungs were slightly injured both from the _ringnar_ and the healing. And finally, I just am not going to take a chance with your health since you are apparently the first Man to have lived through this poison." Aragorn folded his arms across his chest and gave a very good impression of Lord Elrond's 'you dare question me?' face.  

Faramir laughed. "Your point is well made, brother. Just please try not to treat me like I cannot do anything for myself, that has always been very frustrating for me."

Aragorn nodded but then a thought struck him and he grinned mischievously. "I promise, but I do not believe Éowyn will."

Faramir could only groan.

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Wohoo, he's awake! You know, I might put up another chapter tonight, I'm in a good mood.


	14. Ch 12 Arrival

Alright, since I'm in a good mood, here is another chapter. Kinda short, though. Enjoy!

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**Arrival**

            "Look, there is a village up ahead!"

            Elrond glanced to where Glorfindel was pointing. Sure enough, the small town from the vision lay before them. The people were at work rebuilding the homes and businesses that had obviously been destroyed by fire. Most of the army tents from the village were gone, but Elrond recognized some of the workers as soldiers from Faramir's personal guard. The black tent was nowhere to be seen.

Elrond and Glorfindel urged their horses on, cantering into the village and shocking the townspeople, most of whom had never seen an elf before let alone two great elven lords. Lord Elrond payed no attention to the stares as he searched the crowd for his son. //Find Estel and I find Tir.//

Aragorn hammered the last board into place, stepping back to look at his work. He and the Gondorian soldiers had offered to help the people of Tumbar rebuild and had spent the past couple of days hacking wood instead of orcs. The King of Gondor had just finished helping rebuild the Houses of Healing when he felt a tug on his shirt. He looked down at the little girl. "Yes, Silhin?" The girl, along with Faramir, had been taken into the care of Galwen, the woman who had first found Faramir, and her husband Adin. 

Silhin smiled excitedly. "Your highness, sir, come and see!"

"Please call me Estel and see what?"

"The elves, si. . .Estel! At least, Adin said it was elves. They're so pretty!"

The King raised his eyebrow. //Elves? What are elves doing here?// "What do they look like, Silhin?"

The girl's eyes sparkled. "One has brown hair like you and looks kind of worried. The other has pretty yellow hair, it looks like straw made of gold!"

Aragorn followed Silhin who was skipping ahead, anxious to see the elves again. //Not a very useful description, could be any pair of Wood-elves from Lothlorien.// They came to the large crowd. The people were following the elves at a careful but inquisitive distance. Pushing his way through, the King of Gondor yelled out to the elves. "Mae govannen hîr nin."

                Faster than most of the crowd could blink, the dark-haired elf dismounted and strode up to Aragorn. "Estel, there you are!"

            Aragorn stared dumbfounded at the elf. "Ada?" A thousand questions ran through his mind, but Elrond did not give him time to voice any of them.

            "Where is Tir?"

            As Aragorn was still trying to process that his father was here, Silhin had moved cautiously next to Glorfindel who by then was standing net to Elrond. "Who are you looking for?"

            Glorfindel looked down at the girl. "We are seeking the lord Faramir, Steward of Gondor. He is a friend of ours."

            "You mean 'Palan? He's this way, at Galwen and Adin's house." Grabbing Glorfindel's hand, Silhin started pulling him away. The surprised elf lord only had time to tap Elrond on the shoulder and tell him where they were going before being dragged off. Elrond walked quickly after them, a still slightly confused Aragorn and most of the town of Tumbar in tow. 

            As they walked to the house, Aragorn finally found his voice. "Ada, what are you doing here? How did you know about Faramir, the messenger would have only just reached Lothlorien today?"

            Elrond spared a glance at his foster son. "Galadriel's Mirror. She sent for me from Imladris and when I looked into it I saw. . .I saw. . ." The elf lord couldn't finish his sentence but the look in his eyes told Aragorn all he needed to know.

            The King of Gondor put a hand on his father's arm. "He is fine, Ada. In fact, we will be returning to Minas Tirith soon."

            It startled Aragorn to see Elrond's shoulders slump slightly in relief. //The vision must have been awful.// "Thank the Valar. I had feared. . . "

            Aragorn understood completely. He had feared the same thing. "Come Ada. He is this way."

            Meanwhile, Silhin continued to drag Glorfindel to the house. //Eluial would be laughing so hard she would be crying if she could see me now. The great Lord Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower, being pulled along by a little human girl who is not even a hundredth of my age.// "Here we are Mister. . . "

            "Glorfindel. Lord Glorfindel."

            Silhin paused, her eyes going wide. "Like in the story about the big elf-city and the attack of Morgoth? The elf who fought legions of Balrogs in order to protect his family and friends?"

            Glorfindel grimaced at the memory. The betrayal of Maeglin, the death of Lord Ecthelion who was Glorfindel's friend and mentor. His mother and sister, slain by the Balrog as it attacked the fleeing elves from behind. "Yes, I am that Glorfindel." //Ai, even mortals know my story!//

            "I'm sorry." Surprised, Glorfindel looked at Silhin. She stared sadly at him. "I lost my family too. I don't remember Mama or Daddy, but I had Gramma until the monsters got her. Now I don't have anyone either, like you."

            The blonde elf lord felt his heart ache for the little girl. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he smiled encouragingly. "Most people do not know the end of my story. Yes, I fell with the Balrog, but I returned home. I was welcomed into the House of the Peredhil, and I fell in love and married my beloved Eluial. So the story does have a happy ending."

            "Do you think my story will have a happy ending?" 

Before he could answer, they reached the house and Galwen hurried out the door. "Silhin, there you are, I was so worried about you! You should not run off like that without telling anyone."

"I'm sorry Galwen, but I got to see the elves and this is Lord Glorfindel from the story about the Balrogs!"

Galwen gawked at the elf. "My lord . . . please, come in. Oh dear. . . Silhin, please start doing your chores, we have. . . more guests. . .oh dear!" The young woman nearly fled back into the house, having a sudden urge to clean her house more. 

Glorfindel smiled. He saw the motherly look Galwen had given Silhin. "Do not worry, little one. You will have your happy ending as well."

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Ok, I'm not really sure why I put in the part with Glorfindel except I like Glorfindel and I wrote this chapter after I read the Fall of Gondolin in the History of Middle Earth and it progressed from there. I don't know if Glorfindel's family died then, or if he had any, (which is a possiblity if he was a really really old elf who was awoken at the Shores of Cuiviénen) but since the Balrog started attacking the women and injured, I figured that was a possibility. Glorfindel was the Head of the House of the Golden Flower and he died fighting the Balrog. I took the position that he returned to Middle Earth and was the Glorfindel that saved Frodo at the Ford of the Bruinen. And I made up Eluial just because I thought he needed a wife. Possibly I'll write a backstory for them later. The ideas keep rolling around in my head. =D


	15. Ch 13 Reunion

Alright guys, sorry I haven't updated. Hopefully this will make it right. In fact, I believe I will finish posting the story tonight. Hope that makes up for the lateness!

Reviewer Responses:

Lydia2= Du'elea. I think it's suppose to mean nightmare. Mom stole my copy of Silmarillion so I can't look it up right now. Glad you like this story and I hope you like that one as well.

arwens-light= Cool beans? You sound like my sister, she says that some. Here's a fundown of characters for you: Silhin is a little girl whose parents died awhile ago and was raised by her grandmother. Galwen and Adin are a couple who have taken Silhin in. Galwen was the woman who found the injured Faramir. Eluial is Glorfindel's wife from 'Faramir's story' Hope that clears it up a bit. Thanks for reviewing.

Arahiril= Wait no longer, here is the long awaited reunion between father and son. I hope it's sappy enough for you.

the evil witch queen= I'm glad I gave Glorfindel a wife, it gives me another story to plan. (I'm having visions of snowball fights in Lindon and a troublemaking scheme gone wrong…or maybe right. We'll see) All the answers to your questions are in this chapter.

Alex92= totally agree.

liaskye= He does have a lot of potential, doesn't he? Hopefully we'll see more of him in the Extended DVDs. *crosses fingers and mutters "Houses of Healing, Houses of Healing."*

LeeAn= I had a bit of trouble trying to explain that. Looking in the mirror and having it so disrupted exhausted both elves. Galadriel knew that a tired elf could find himself in danger (such as running into orcs) and could even be killed. It was really for Elrond's own good. (And I liked having him get drugged for a change. All the stories I read it's him drugging everyone else.)

Thanks also to Susan, Princess of Ithilien, and Selina for reviewing!

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**Reunion******

            Elrond and Aragorn entered the house only a few moments after Glorfindel and Silhin. They found Galwen sweeping frantically, though Aragorn doubted there was any dust left to sweep. Seeing Elrond, her eyes widened more and she paled a few shades. "Another elf? Oh dear, I don't know what to do, we don't have enough rooms, nor enough clean dishes. Ai Valar!"

            Aragorn patted her shoulder. "Do not worry, my lady. Lord Elrond and Lord Glorfindel will not be imposing on your hospitality. They wish only to see Lord Faramir, and can find housing elsewhere." Galwen relaxed noticeably and Aragorn gave his father an apologetic smile. The house, though two stories, was small and there was barely room for Faramir. Aragorn had been sleeping in the tents with the other soldiers and Éowyn had a small room in another house. The elves would have to stay with the soldiers, but at the moment Elrond didn't care if he had to sleep in a cave. He just wanted to make sure for himself that his son was alive and well.

            Somehow Silhin had managed to coerce Glorfindel in helping with the chores Galwen had given her, so Elrond went up the stairs to Faramir's room by himself, Aragorn silently leaving the house so that he wouldn't interfere with the reunion.

            Elrond found it easy to locate Faramir for he heard his son's voice clearly. "Éowyn, I am not crippled, I can sit up on my own!"

            "You should not overexert yourself," came Éowyn's stern reply.

            "I am not overexerting myself by sitting up in bed! Aragorn has even said that we may leave for home tomorrow so he at least thinks me able to sit up since I have to _sit_ to ride a _horse_."

            The elf lord could hear the smile in Éowyn's voice. "I believe Aragorn means for you to be carried home on a litter. He wants to make sure you do not hurt yourself again."

            "What!"

            There was a pause before laughter broke out in the room. Obviously, Éowyn had been joking and it eased the tension. Elrond smiled as he entered the room to see his younger foster son sitting up in bed, apparently very healthy and anxious to get out of said bed. "I think a litter would be a good idea, it might keep you out of trouble for a bit, Tir."

            Faramir's eyes lit up in surprise and happiness at the sight of his father. "Ada! What are you doing here?"

            The vision from the mirror darted across the elf lord's mind. Elrond quickly made his way to Faramir's side and embraced him tightly. "Do not ever do that to me again, Tir!"

            "Why does this sound familiar?" muttered Faramir light-heartedly, but he hugged his father just as firmly. 

            After a moment, Elrond released him and regained the 'solemn elf-lord' look that had momentarily left him in his relief. The elf lord also noticed that Éowyn had left the room, which he was grateful for. He wanted to talk to his son alone. "How do you feel? What happened?"

            Evidently Faramir had been asked this often for a look of annoyance crossed his face. "I am *fine*, but everyone is treating me like I am made of glass." He sighed. "Forgive me, Ada, I do not mean to be sharp with you. It is just that no one trusts me to do *anything* without supervision."

            Elrond smiled. "That will end with time. It did the time with the river, and when you caught pneumonia that one winter, and that orc attack, as well as when you went wandering off on your own and came upon that band of angry wolves. . . "

            Faramir laughed as his father dredged up time after time he had been hurt. "Perhaps Estel was right, I should be locked up in the Tower of Ecthelion for my own protection."

            "The Tower would probably catch on fire and burn to the ground."

            The Steward grinned. "That is exactly what I told Estel."

            Father and son had a good laugh at that, before Elrond decided to continue his questioning. "I still do not know what happened. I only saw a vision in Galadriel's Mirror and knew you were in grave danger."

            Faramir did _not_ want to tell his father for fear of another overprotective guardian, but there was no keeping a secret from the Lord of Imladris. "We were fending off the orcs that were attacking this town and I was injured. The wound was poisoned. I do not remember much, but it seems I was close to death at one point."

            "What poison was it." Ever the healer, Elrond of course wanted to know every detail.

            The Steward of Gondor shifted uncomfortably. "It was _ringnar_." //3. . .2. . 1. . //

            "What!" //Valar, _ringnar_! How in Varda's name is he still alive?// A lump formed in the elf lord's throat as he realized how very close he had come to truly losing his son.

            "I am fine now, though," Faramir said quickly, seeing Elrond's stunned and worried expression. "Both Aragorn and Gandalf have said that there have been no residual effects from the poison."

            "Mithrandir is here?" 

            Faramir nodded. "He was the one who healed me. Estel said that it was because he bears Narya." The Steward had been very surprised when he had heard that. He knew that Elrond and Galadriel were Ringbearers, but he had not known that Narya had been held by the wizard.

            "That does make sense. Narya would give him extra power."

            "Yes." There was a pause in conversation but then Faramir took up the questioning. "So you looked in the Lady's Mirror?"

            "Yes."

            "I do not suppose you are going to tell me what you saw?" Elrond just raised an eyebrow. Faramir sighed. "I think I can understand that. It was bad?"

            //You cannot even imagine, my son.// "Horrible. Made even worse by the fact that Galadriel made me wait a day before I could leave."

            "I cannot see you staying there if you wanted to be somewhere else."

            Elrond grimaced. "She did not give me much choice." Faramir looked at him questioningly and Elrond smiled. "I have learned that it is not wise to accept drink from someone who wishes you to stay put."

            Faramir's eyes widened in astonishment and he grinned. "She drugged you! I did not think that was possible, it is you who keeps drugging everyone else!"

            "Shh, keep your voice down please, Tir. Glorfindel knows, but I would appreciate it if you did not tell anyone else."

            "Very well." Unfortunately the Steward had a mischevious smile on his face. "Regrettably, though, if my King is to order me to speak, I will have to tell him."

            Elrond groaned good-naturedly then laughed. "It is good to have you well, my son." 

            "That it is." The elf turned as Gandalf the White entered the room. "Unfortunately I must ask you to let young Faramir rest now. You may talk to him later."

            Though Faramir protested about having to rest, Gandalf was firm and after another hug Elrond followed the wizard outside.

            Standing in the yard, Elrond and Gandalf watched Silhin try to teach Glorfindel how to play a child's game involving a wooden stick and a hoop. The Lord of Imladris turned his head to Gandalf. "My friend, how did he survive _ringnar_? Very few have the Ringbearers saved, and all of them elves."

            "If caught at the right time, even Men might be saved."

            "Then you caught the poison in time?" Elrond frowned at the look in the wizard's eyes. "Mithrandir?"

            "I will not soften my words to you, Elrond. It is a mystery to me how Faramir is still alive. When I arrived he had one foot in Mandos and was fading fast. I did what I could, but I was not expecting success. He is leaving tomorrow for Minas Tirith when in all rights he should be laying in his final rest in the House of the Stewards." Elrond's face paled and Gandalf smiled reassuringly at the elf lord. "Yet somehow, he is very much alive and healthy. His lungs were injured, but they too have healed. You have not lost your son." The wizard smiled slyly. "And in a month, you will have gained another daughter."

            Elrond had to smile at that and the color returned to his cheeks. "I believe Lady Éowyn is just who my son needs. Perhaps she may even keep him out of trouble."

            "And how likely is that?"

            "About as likely as the Anduin is to flow backward."

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So true, so true. He _is_ always getting into trouble. And it seems to get worse later when…oops almost leaked some of the sequels to this. Can't be doing that, can we? =D 


	16. Ch 14 Relief The End

*sniff* I can't believe it's over! This, my friends, is the last chapter of Fell Wound. I'm sorry that it took so long, but hopefully you enjoyed it as much as I have.

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**Relief**

            Faramir smiled joyfully as he spurred Belgir into a walk. He was finally free from that confining bed and ready to go home. Though he still tired easily, Faramir was all too happy to be going to Minas Tirith. //Nearly dying must make one homesick.// Aragorn rode up beside him. "Are you ready to go?"

            "Very ready." He had already said farewell to the villagers of Tumbar, and given his thanks to Silhin, Galwen, and Adin. Éowyn, the White Guard, Glorfindel, and Elrond brought their horses up, and they set off. Glorfindel waved back at Silhin who smiled and clutched the wooden flower that the blonde elf had carved for her.

            Elrond looked over at his friend who had a wistful look on his face. ^Do not worry about her, my friend. Galwen and Adin have taken her as their own and she will be happy again.^

            Glorfindel nodded. ^Yes, her story will have a happy ending.^ The two elves smiled, as did the others who understood their Sindarin words. 

            Soon it was time for Glorfindel and Elrond to leave the group and head back to Lothlorien. Faramir and Aragorn were sad to see their father go, but they smiled and promised to give his love to Arwen. Elrond was just as sad.  ^Farewell, my sons. I love you both dearly, so _please_ try to stay out of trouble.^

            ^We will try, Ada. Farewell!^ The Men waited until the Elves were out of sight before continuing home. Gandalf had left on Shadowfax before them, claiming urgent business elsewhere, so they set a leisurely pace that Faramir suspected was ordered by Aragorn on purpose for the Steward's health. But he did not complain since he was so happy just being outside.

            They were nearly to the city when Éowyn brought her horse up to Faramir's. They were far enough away from the others that she could talk to him without being overheard. "Faramir."

            She felt her heart melt when he smiled at her. "Yes, love?"

            "Do you. . . do you truly forgive me?"

            Faramir drew Belgir to a stop, Éowyn stopping as well. "Éowyn, why bring this up again? I told you that there is nothing to forgive."

            "But there is! I spoke without thinking and. . . and I hurt you as I had promised myself I never would."

            Faramir reached over and took her hand. "I knew when I asked Aragorn to tell you not to come that you would be angry. Yes the words hurt, but I know you and I knew that you did not mean them."

            Éowyn tried not to wince as Faramir admitted to being hurt. Though she knew it already, it still stung to know she was right. "Why _did_ you not want me to come? You know I can fight and have not objected before."

            A shadow passed over Faramir face. He sighed. "I have told you about the. . .dreams. . . I have." Éowyn nodded. He had told her before about the prophetic visions he experienced. "The nights before the attack I had a dream. And." Pausing, Faramir looked deep into Éowyn's eyes. "And I would sooner have you despise me for all time then let that dream come to pass."

            In the depths of Faramir's grey eyes, Éowyn could almost see the dream that had caused him so much heart-ache. He had seen a vision of her, obviously either dead or worse, and had risked her wrath to save her. Éowyn felt tears in her eyes and clasped Faramir's hand tightly between hers. "Oh love! I had no idea!" She lowered her head. "Now I feel even worse for losing my temper."

            Faramir lifted her head up and smiled. "Éowyn, when I fell in love with you, I fell in love with all of you, including your temper." He grinned. "I would rather have you and your fury than any even-tempered lady in all of Arda."

            Éowyn laughed as her tears left her. "And I would rather have you, and your ability to get into trouble, than any other man in the lands of the world."

            "Really?"

            "Really." 

            As if sensing their riders thoughts, the horses moved closer together as Faramir and Éowyn leaned toward each other and kissed.

            Sitting atop his own horse a good distance away, Aragorn looked back at the couple and could not stop the smile on his face. He had not heard their conversation, but obviously it had gone well. The other guards were all trying their hardest not to grin, happy that their lord had found his true love. Aragorn grinned. //Now he is truly healed. There is no better medicine than love.//

Two nights later, back home in Minas Tirith at last, Faramir fell asleep and dreamed.

*^*

He walked through the bodies of the dead, mourning those whose lives were over, cut short by war. His Rangers, the knights of Dol Amroth, his family, all lay dead. All he could do was look at them, eyes filled with tears. But when he reached the end of the dead, he did not find the one body that had so filled him with fear before. Instead, she stood there smiling at him, alive, vibrantly alive! The sun broke through the darkness and the dead disappeared with the night.

*^*

            Faramir woke up, though it was only midnight. Going to his window, he looked out across his city. He thought of his fiancée, asleep in her own house. His nightmare had not come true, and within a month he and Éowyn would be husband and wife. Their love had survived its test, now it was stronger than ever. Faramir smiled under the starry sky. //Perhaps, like Glorfindel and Silhin, our story will have a happy ending as well.//

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*sniff again* Yay, I love happy endings. I was going to put in some ominous foreshadowing at the end, but decided against it. I am afraid it will be quite some time before the sequel comes out. My problem is that this is the first of three stories that culminate in the third story. Unfortunately while the third story is almost done, the second is barely beginning. And since I cannot post unchronilogically (is that a word?) you'll have to wait until the second one is finished. Until then, please review and tell me what you think, and please feel free to read my other stories. Namarie! (until later)

P.S. I'll also put some cut and edited scenes up if you want to check them out.


	17. Cut or Edited scenes

**Cut or edited scenes**         

Here are some cut or edited scenes that I wrote, but then discarded.

_A continuation of the scene with Gandalf and Ælfwine.___

            Strangely enough, Ælfwine seemed to trust the man. "The king did not waste time writing it to paper. His sister's betrothed has been injured and the wound is poisoned. The poison is called. . . " Ælfwine closed his eyes, searching for the word. "It is called _ringnar_." The Rider of Rohan opened his eyes to see the old man staring at him in horror.

            "_Ringnar_? Are you sure that is what he said?"

            "That is what he told me."

            The old man frowned in thought. Only a moment passed before he spoke. "Young Rider, please continue on to Lothlorien. You need not push your horse, but the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien should be informed. Where is the Steward now?"

            Ælfwine frowned. "Tumbar in Anorien." The old man clicked his tongue and the white horse started forward. "What about you?"

            "I ride to Tumbar. Hopefully I will get there in time."

_This was the original scene where an injured Faramir is dreaming and hears Éowyn's voice. I discarded it because I decided to change the way the scene went. Frankly, it got too sappy, even for me._

^*^*^   'I hate you, you weakling! You are worthless, I don't care if you even come back!' //Stop, please!// 'You're an idiot, a fool! I don't care if you even come back, you coward!' Try as he might, Faramir could not block out Éowyn's voice. In his heart he knew that it wasn't really her speaking, but his muddled mind only saw her angry face and heard only her harsh words. 'You dotard, I don't want you.' 

*Faramir, it's me.*

 //I know. You hate me.// 'Why would I love you, weakling?' 

*I'm here, love* 

Faramir felt confused. This new voice sounded the same, yet different. //Love? But I thought you don't love me. You didn't care if I even came back to you.// 'I don't care, I hate you.' 

*Please, come back to me.*

 //Come back?// 

*Faramir.* 

Suddenly Faramir realized that this was the real Éowyn. But try as he might, he couldn't reach her. //I can't. I can't come back. I'm sorry.// And he fell back into the dark hold of his nightmare.  ^*^*^

_This was the start of a 'Faramir wakes up'  scene that would have fit with the above cut scene. Needless to say, it was cut as well._

            "Éowyn?" 

She woke up with a start as she heard her name called in a hoarse whisper. Her eyes lit up when she realized that the voice belonged to Faramir and that he was awake and looking at her. "Faramir!" Éowyn would have hugged him if he hadn't just come back from the threshold of death. 

"Éowyn, why?"

Éowyn looked at him, puzzled. "Why what?"

"Why are you here?"

"You were injured, close to death! Why wouldn't I be here, love?"

Her words seemed to confuse him even more. "Love? But. . . but you hate me."

Éowyn jerked her head back in shock. The despair in his eyes made her heart break as her worst fears were confirmed. //He truly thinks I hate him.// She grabbed his hand, clasping it to her chest. "No! No, I don't hate you, Faramir, I don't! I love you, I love you more than you can even imagine!"

Faramir tried to organize his jumbled thoughts. The voice in his dreams wasn't really Éowyn's, just the product of a fevered mind. //No, not all of it was a dream.// "You said." His voice caught in his throat at the memory. "You said you didn't care if I came back." Éowyn let out a sob, clutching his hand tighter, her head bent over it as if to hide the fact that she was crying. Faramir brought his free hand to her face and gently brushed the teardrops from her cheek. "Don't. Please, don't cry. I. . . I understand, I will respect your feelings. . . "

"Stop, Faramir, please stop!" Éowyn lifted her head and looked deep into Faramir's cloudy gray eyes. "Faramir, love, I am so sorry for those words. They have haunted me since the day they left my mouth! Every moment of every day, I have regretted that I ever said that to you and that I didn't instantly take it back. If those words had proved true, it would have destroyed me completely! Please, forgive me, my love!" Unable to stay upright under the weight of her guilt, Éowyn laid her head on Faramir's chest , still grasping his hand to her heart.

As her tears subsided, Éowyn felt Faramir's free hand stroking her hair. "Oh Éowyn, how can I forgive what is already forgiven?"

Éowyn turned her head so that she faced Faramir. "But. . ."

"But nothing. I know you speak the truth about your remorse. The dreams that said otherwise are no more."  __

_Like I said: Way too sappy.___

_And finally, this is a different scene at the end of the story in which Faramir talks about the dream to Aragorn. I really didn't like it so I went back and changed it completely_

            ^Tir, how are you feeling?^ The company was only a few miles outside of Minas Tirith when Aragorn spoke to his Steward.

            After deciding that glaring was useless, Faramir answered his brother. ^I will be better when everyone quits asking me how I am.^

            Of course, Aragorn was already aware of this fact and had only asked the question to initiate a conversation. Éowyn was debating with Captain Beregond of the White Guard over horses and the other White Guards were talking amongst themselves leaving Aragorn with Faramir to talk to. ^Fine, then we will not talk about it. How about we talk about why you were so apprehensive about going to Tumbar in the first place?^

            Faramir looked over at his King, startled. ^I do not know what you mean.^

            ^You did not wish for Éowyn to go, you were abnormally quiet the whole ride there, and sensed the ambush before it happened.^

            ^I did not sense it soon enough.^

            Aragorn decided not to go into the self-blame game that he and Faramir always seemed to play. ^But what of Éowyn? You sensed something then, did you not?^

            A shadow played over Faramir's face. ^I kept having the same nightmare. I knew that if she came, I would lose her forever. I could not risk that, even if it meant having her angry at me.^

            Aragorn nodded in understanding. Prophetic dreams were something he shared with his brother, most of them heralding danger. And he could certainly understand not wanting to put the one he loved in danger. ^She is not angry anymore, though. You did the right thing.//

            The brothers continued to talk in Sindarin, about many different things. They did not notice that behind them, Éowyn was only half-listening to Beregond talk about Gondorian versus Rohirric saddles. Instead, her thoughts were on the few words she had heard an understood of Faramir and Aragorn's conversation. Ever since her betrothal to Faramir, Éowyn had endeavored to learn the Elvish language he loved. And though she did not understand all of what they had said, she knew that Faramir had risked her wrath to protect her. //Aragorn is right, though, I am definitely no longer angry. How can I be when I have truly realized how much Faramir loves me? What did I do to deserve someone so wonderful?// Éowyn sighed, happy to have her beloved back, happy to have his love.

_Way too much explanation.__ I tend to do that sometimes. Please, feel free to tell me how you likes (or even disliked) the changes. _


End file.
